


This Kingdom Bleeds Black

by pinboo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Character Death, Dark fic, Demon Oikawa Tooru, F/F, F/M, Final Haikyuu Quest, Haikyuu Rarepair Weekend, Horror, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Twisted Characters, questionable romance and love motive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinboo/pseuds/pinboo
Summary: What ran in the Demon King's vein was the blood of a dead lover, an ambition that burned him bare, and a nightmare that forever haunted him.What chained the Witch Queen's soul was the sun she could never touch, bloody trails of sins she vowed to follow, and a dream that would never come true.Together, they were the undefeated (but together, they were also the damned)A dark!FHQ three-shots of the unholiest of the unholy





	1. The Nightmare King

**Author's Note:**

> I am always drawn to the macabric, and while I may be quite new to the haikyuu fandom, the concept of Demon Oikawa and Kuuro and Succubus/Witch Kiyoko in FHQ just tickles my dark writing gut so much. In consequence, the characters here may be very twisted, and please, heed the warning and tags. I'm absolutely serious about them. 
> 
> This fic offers some pairings, like Kiyoyachi, heavy hints of past Iwaoi and platonic!Oikiyokuro. But mainly, this story as you can guess is about Oikawa Tooru and Shimizu Kiyoko -which may or may not be in a romantic sense.

 

* * *

 

“My Dear, would you honor me and be my queen?”

 

The hand was outstretched in an open invitation. The voice was gentle, and it held a promise of protection and eternity ( _but a promise of eternity was a chain to one’s soul –this was hypothetical, for she had no such soul_ ). And Shimizu thought that had she been anything but this very same mass of black heart, his offer would be romantic as well.

 

Except that it was not, and would never be.

 

She was one of the few creatures allowed to stand and look straight into his eyes when they talked. Most other would only enjoy the position of bowing their heads for the beheading. While she was never as powerful as him, she knew that _he_ _knew_ killing her would come with few wounds on his behalf. The King did not fight useless battle, it seemed.

 

“Well?” he asked again and the tips of his outstretched fingers twitched in impatience. This was the farthest extent of hospitality he could display. His head was tilted in a comfortable position –propped up by his other lazy hand. The smile on his face remained and the offer still stood.

 

“You have…” she began; her voice was small but it still echoed in the hollowness of his throne room. “You could have had your Queen.”

 

“Ah,” he noted when he saw where the beautiful Witch’s gaze laid upon. His outstretched hand was finally drawn back, and it descended to touch the beautiful thing laid awkwardly on his lap ( _once a princess, once a bride, once alive_ ). The Demon King averted his gaze from the Witch for a moment, only to fondly look at the bloodied body he was supposed to call his queen. “You mean this poor Princess Yui?” he asked as he snaked his arm to the dead princess’ back to support her. He gently swiped the bangs of her short, black hair and bent to kiss her neck, and after, lick the blood from the gash that almost severed the body and the head.

 

The pure princess in white who was supposed to shine light upon the evil king in black. Red blood cynically said hello to redemption.

 

 _Still_ , the Witch thought as she watched how the King embraced and kissed his dead princess, _there could only be few picture in hell more beautiful than this._

 

The King took his final time to kiss the blood off Princess Yui’s neck. When he pulled his body up to face the Witch again, there was an ear-to-ear smile on his face.

 

“I am actually a feminist, you know?” he noted. “I whole-heartedly believe that behind a strong man, is a strong woman. And my dear Princess here…” he gently noted as he tangled his fingers her bangs again. It was almost as if he could be in love with her, but who was he fooling? “…Feisty and interesting, but I need a stronger woman,” he declared, and as if to prove his point, he shoved the princess’ body off his lap until it fell down the steps off his throne. With the girl off his lap, the King folded his leg and locked eyes with the witch again. “My trusted advisor, Kuroo, has spoken very highly of you. Said that you once overtook a whole kingdom yourself?”

 

“He speaks too highly of me,” Shimizu clarified. True, she, with the natural charm of a succubus, managed to turn men in one small kingdom against each other for her favor. But she hardly believed it was any indication of her strength. Helen of Troy was never to be remembered in history as the hero anyway.

 

“Nuh, don’t undervalue yourself, Dear,” the King winked. “Strength did not always take form of wit or muscles or strong magic. You are indeed, the strongest woman as of now. If one day I happen to cross a woman stronger than you…” he chuckled. “I’ll keep your dead body intact at least. Dead or alive, you are still a vision to behold.”

 

There was not much deliberation needed. With the Grand Demon King, of course, offer meant order. When one would so much be hung for refusing an offer, an offer stopped being one.

 

Shimizu walked towards his throne; her high boots made constant resonating sound and he seemed to already be enjoying the way this dominatrix vixen walked to him. His throne was five steps up on stairs made of skulls and she made no hesitant move when her heels walked over the body of the dead princess. Closer to his throne, the King’s smile widened. He extended his hand down to help her climb the steps. Those stilettos must have been hard to walk with on these skulls, but he forgot that she was a succubus of power and grace –she could practically dance on the surface of the ocean with ease. Still, she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her body closer to his grand throne.

 

“No bowing, no kissing my boots?” he remarked, but it was more playful than threatening. His hand made tantalizing touch on her tight-clad rear and twirled her tail. Her tail was always her sensitive spot; her knees buckled and she nearly fell onto him.

 

Except that she extended both her palms to hold onto the headboard of his throne instead. With him sitting, she was towering him. The position did not really give her much bargain for domination though, for his fingers were still playing with her tail and she fought hard not to let her next sentence came in a raspy moan.

 

“Do queens need to bow to the kings as well?”

 

It seemed like an honest question to him, and he finally released her tail and pinched his own chin instead as if to ponder. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I suppose a queen does have her own prerogative. Perhaps. I never really have a queen before.”

 

He almost looked like a kid when he did so, and for so long that preference mattered, Shimizu always had soft spots for kids. It nearly made her pity him. It nearly made her want to protect him. It nearly made her want to warn him.

 

“You’re not afraid of me?”

 

He blinked, as if it was the first time anyone had asked him that question. He was borderline offended, but more than that, curious.

 

“Why must I be afraid of you?”

 

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “They said I’m a Witch who only brings curses upon men.”

 

He smirked upon hearing that. With a sudden strong jerk of her tail, she could no longer suppress her moan. Her knees gave up and she stumbled onto his chest. But he took a grip of her neck and stretched it wide from her shoulder. His hand trailed down the bare skin of her collarbone as he nuzzled on her neck and made his point.

 

“To men? Maybe. To a King? Never.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The Demon King’s real name was Oikawa Tooru, and he had ( _so_ _generously,_ he persisted) told her it was acceptable for her to call him that because she was his queen.

 

Oikawa gave her a large room of her own –an arrangement that Shimizu was sure he made because he did not allow anyone, not even his queen, to enter his bedroom. When he was in the mood to fuck her, he was the one going to her room. But such nights were not constant, because as much as he wanted to, he knew the consequence of having sex with a succubus. Succubus lived off the energy of the men they devoured sexually –mortal men would die in one take. Oikawa might have been a Demon King with enormous power, and while even continuous sex with her would not kill him, each would still temporarily deplete his energy substantially.

 

But consuming her was amazing, and Oikawa thought it was worth the nausea that came after the rounds. So he learned to play the balance. He would let weeks pass without touching her, but on the scheduled night where he knew it was safe, he would use her to the fullest –to the point where he was not the only one depleted of energy.

 

He would hover over her on her bed; sometimes tie all her limbs to the bedposts and let her strained tight and sprawled naked on the bed. Tying her was more of a necessary measure than a fetish (though he believed he might slowly grow a new kink), because when orgasm hit her the hardest, her nails would naturally excrete poison onto his skin. But once he learned how to use her to the wisely, taking her in whole was what he did.

 

Shimizu was far from the only woman he had fucked. But Oikawa tended to be generous with her, because she was the queen and not some slaves Maki brought from the auction. With the others, he would not give much of damn to pleasure them, but with Shimizu, Oikawa would go as far as kneeling down to suck her clitoris and lap the wetness that flowed out of her folds (always shaven clean as per his request). And to be honest, it was not entirely to please her either, because unlike normal women, succubus’ nectar tasted sweet as hell and he must hold himself sometimes not to suck her too dry.

 

And Shimizu could be really cute and honest when she reached her orgasm as well. All the more reasons why his long finger always itched to reach deeper inside her just so she could cry out.

 

“O-Oikawa…” she rasped when her hips bucked against his face.

 

He knew he had allowed her to call him by his real name. But he was a King with many rules, and Shimizu seemed to forget that there was an exception to calling him during the consummation period.

 

“My Queen,” he whispered hotly in front of her opening, and his airy breath made her jolt more. “Remember what you should refer me as when I do good things to you?”

 

“M-my…” she jerked again when he rubbed her clit. “My King…”

 

“Correct,” he giddily grinned before he pulled himself up and tore the ropes around her ankles (kept the ones around her wrists). He pressed his palms on both sides of her inner thighs and spread her wide before he completely entered her.

 

He had never fucked a succubus aside from Shimizu, so he did not particularly know whether the hot and tightness of her walls were natural traits for her kind or were they hers only. All that he knew, was that she almost always felt like a virgin when he entered, and it only made him arch his back whenever the friction was made. For succubus herself, there were only few, if not none, who could last long enough during the process. He nearly smiled fondly at her when he saw her drag her own heels so that her butt cheeks were rested on them. Then, she arched herself a bit higher to engulf him more.

 

It was always great, but at nights where it was plainly amazing, Oikawa felt that his soul and energy were sucked at a much faster rate. He was at least thankful he could still have enough energy to last when the orgasm came and she squeezed and he jerked. When the orgasm was particularly mind blowing, even the muscles of his arms could not hold the weight of his own body and he would fall onto her –catching his own breath just as she was doing the same.

 

He would usually wait until one or two hours before he gained enough energy to stand up, cut the ropes around her wrists, and then proceeded back to his room.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

“Kiyoko-san, I don’t like that man! Please let’s escape from this place!”

 

“We can take off when that man is off for the battle next full moon! He wouldn’t notice!”

 

Shimizu was always used to her noisy and overprotective loyal companions ( _no, lower than companions, Kiyoko-san! We are humble servants to you only, Kiyoko-san!_ ). The two had followed her to this castle and Oikawa had even given both of them a chamber. Despite so, it had not been the first time Tanaka and Nishinoya brought the notion of escaping the castle.

 

“The King wouldn’t like it,” Shimizu noted pensively as she gazed at the silver moon outside her window.

 

“Well, we don’t like the King either and we know neither do you, Kiyoko-san!” Tanaka fiery debated.

 

“If we escape, he might be furious.”

 

“That’s what we are here for, Kiyoko-san!” Nishinoya assured in high spirit. “We will not allow that bastard hurt you and we will protect you with all we’ve got!”

 

Shimizu pulled her gaze away from the night scenery to the fist-clenching and highly-spirited two little demons. Ah, she had no doubt that Tanaka and Nishinoya would do that. These two were not weak demons themselves, but in front of the Grand King? Shimizu knew that they stood not even a miniscule chance. And if there were two of very few beings she came to have soft spot on, these two would be it.

 

She gave a small smile that she reserved at the very rarest time to them (both little demons froze immediately) and shook her head.

 

“And besides, where can we go?” Shimizu asked.

 

No, the question was a bit off. Tanaka and Nishinoya originally belonged to the Land of the Demon –this macabric yet enormous land Oikawa ruled. They had homes to go to. Shimizu? All her life she had only flown from one place to another, never having a hometown, never having a place to return to.

 

_Where is this home for her?_

Nishinoya quieted down as he gazed at Shimizu’s ever unchanging expression. But the spiky-haired demon understood his master well.

“But this place is not your home, Kiyoko-san.”

 

Shimizu agreed, but as she returned her face to gaze at the moon again, she also remarked.

 

“Still. Probably the closest thing to it that I’ll ever have.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

When Oikawa came with the offer to make Shimizu his queen, she had few ideas of what she was actually expected to do. The Queen was more of a status than a duty, but Oikawa made use of things to the fullest. Shimizu knew one day, he would expect something from her in return.

 

Oikawa was a tyrant, always. But he was not a tyrant that knew nothing of his job. Especially in times like this, where the little skirmishes for rebellion were breaking here and there like beansprouts. Everyone feared Oikawa, but many would go to the extent of facing their fears to overthrow him.

 

When Shimizu first heard of Oikawa, she thought he was a king who just liked to laze around in his grand castle –his biggest concern would probably be what different method was there to torture his prisoner or which cloak he would wear that day. But for the weeks and months living in the castle with him, Shimizu found out that he was much busier than she originally thought. On the days where he was not out for battles, Oikawa would busy himself in the castle –strategizing and holding meetings on how he could expand his land more or how to effectively suppress the rebels.

 

Oikawa who had much time in his hand was already scary, but Oikawa who was preoccupied with something was always much scarier. Shimizu knew better than not to be in his vicinity during such period.

 

But Kuroo returned back from the battle that day, and for centuries, he had been quite an old friend to Shimizu. The dark-haired general came to visit Shimizu who was reading in the library, and Shimizu actually put down her book to talk to him. At least until Oikawa entered the library and requested an emergency meeting with him.

 

So with Kuroo occupied and with the table now filled with large map, pieces of pawns, quills, inks and notes, Shimizu pushed herself to the chair by the window of the library. She was only ten pages away from finishing her papier-mâché book and neither Oikawa nor Kuroo seemed to even notice her presence.

 

“We managed to push back the battalion on the west. We burned their fortress. Supposed there won’t be any real hazard for the next four months at minimum. But there is a growing concern from the little group from the southern riverbank,” Kuroo reported.

 

Oikawa shook his head. “Small militias are never our priority. Just leave it to Maki. He can handle that one. Let’s just focus on our expansion plan to Shiratorizawa region.”

 

“This militia group is led by Daichi Sawamura. He is the son of the Great General Sawamura…whom you executed.”

 

Oikawa shrugged. “Whom I executed so you can take over his position, Kuroo,” he reminded.

 

Kuroo smirked to that. Still, he felt the need to warn… and provoke the king further. “Right. I suppose the fact that the militia group also has Kageyama Tobio is also none of importance?”

 

The corner of Oikawa’s eyes twitched. The General just knew his King too well.

 

“Ah. Little Tobio-chan.”

 

“Growing more and more excellent as days passed, I heard.”

 

“Hmm,” Oikawa pondered as he drew his fingers to his chin. “That militia sure needs to be squished as fast as we can. But a majority of our troops are already in the Eastern Mountain heading to the Shiratorizawa region. That region is experiencing blizzard, and our troop is used to that. There is no better time to attack them than now.”

 

“Right. So you want to deploy Maki for the militias? Not sure it’ll not be a suicide, though. At Maki’s current level, he might not be able to handle Daichi and his group.”

 

“Order Lev to join him.”

 

“Lev is too much of a wild card. He can only work best with Yaku, but Yaku is on the Shiratorizawa attack group.”

 

“The others?”

 

“Posted on their respective stations. Need at least two weeks to reach Daichi’s position.”

 

“Any other option then? You are to join the Shiratorizawa attack group in two days. And I can’t concentrate on Shiratorizawa if Tobio-chan is still alive and around. Must I really go to battle myself?”

 

“Tell just a couple of your Shiratorizawa expansion troop to take the old tunnel in the Southern Mountain,” Shimizu noted as she closed her book and got up from the chair. “Crossing that tunnel will only take one and a half day, and it will lead to the Karasuno Valley where the militias kept their supplies. You don’t need to attack the militas. Just burn their supplies and logistics. That will at least distract that militia’s attention.”

 

Oikawa and Kuroo both turned to look at Shimizu –who all but gave them the attention as she walked back to the book shelves. When she stopped herself, it was only to add a warning. “Oh, but that tunnel is filled with some poisonous plants. Assign only your men who have sufficient knowledge of poisons and antidotes.”

 

“That…” Oikawa pondered. “…can actually work. No big effort but worth the try.”

 

Shimizu shrugged. “Oh, Oikawa-san?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you know the continuation of this papier-mâché book? It says there’s an advance edition for this, but I can’t find it here.”

 

“…Probably in the east wing library. All advanced and second series books are there.”

 

“Noted,” Shimizu said with a nod before she exited the west library.

 

Kuroo only chuckled when he saw Oikawa’s eyes were still transfixed on the now closed door that Shimizu just passed.

 

“See? I told you. You’d like that Witch.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

“You must consider yourself special, Kiyoko-chan! I don’t always bring people here, really!” the King chirped almost too happily as he held her by the shoulder and dragged her in.

 

When Oikawa was not out to personally lead the battle or work the governmental affairs in his office, he would usually come and nag his succubus queen. Nine out of ten, it would only involve sex in the end, and Shimizu knew he just liked to change the place lately.

 

Even after nearly a year living in his grand castle, there were still too many territories Shimizu was not aware of. His castle was enormous, and that had not even taken the secret passages into consideration. The hall that the King was inviting herself into was placed in the south tower, and like most of the general design, it was dark and majestic –the more reason for Shimizu to be comfortable at the place.

 

But this hall, unlike any other room or chamber she had been in the castle, was certainly too special.

 

“Allow me to show you…” he paused dramatically with an accompanying dramatic swish of his cloak. “My most precious collection!”

 

Oikawa’s most precious collection, Shimizu learned that day, was never gold or ancient artifacts. Nor were they weapon memoirs or historical spell books.

 

Heads.

 

Oikawa’s most precious collection were carefully embalmed heads of those he locked in glass display boxes.

 

“Now, let me show you! This one,” he pointed to the glass box containing the beheaded head of a man with short silver hair. “This one was the King of Date Kou. You must have known him. His iron-walled country… it took two summers, but eventually I made it!”

 

Oikawa showed each display as if he was a kid in a local candy shop. As if the heads were toys instead of the remnants of important people the Demon King had slaughtered.

 

“This is General Sawamura, the senior. My late father’s most trusted advisor. Would have used him as my advisor too had he not, ah, doubted me so much,” he introduced briefly with a smirk. His attention never lingered in one box too long though. “And ah, see, see, here! Remember Princess Yui?” he grinned. “Pretty, right? Not as gorgeous as you of course, my Queen, don’t frown like that. Ah, yes, you always frown like that, I forgot.”

 

Shimizu did not give a single comment but she followed Oikawa as the latter jumped from one display box to the other. There was one display box at the farthest end, in the middle of the room. While it was placed higher on several steps above the other, it was empty.

 

“That one,” Oikawa muttered from Shimizu’s behind as he nuzzled on her neck. “is reserved one day for my most precious head collection. For now, I’m plotting it for Ushijima’s head. But who knows? It can also be the Queen’s one day,” he smirked with the promise of damnation –and as if to emphasize his point, he dragged his long nail slowly across the pale skin on Shimizu’s neck.

 

The moment Shimizu accepted Oikawa’s offer to be his queen, Shimizu knew that she had not only given her freedom, but also her soul and life to him. It mattered less. It was just a matter of time, and it was not as if she had lived a short life.

 

“Always so calm. What does it take to make horror crosses your eyes, My Queen?” Oikawa chuckled as he pushed her against the wall. Shimizu knew what the King wanted, so she spread her hands and flattened them on his tense shoulders. Oikawa throatily groaned when Shimizu’s fingers slowly made the calculated trail across his pelvis and rubbed the building eagerness there.

 

Oikawa was in the middle of unbuckling his pants when something behind him caught Shimizu’s eyes. With hands still placed to burn his skin in passion, the Queen tilted her head and nudged at one glass box –the design was nowhere as intricate as the other glass boxes and was nearly invisible in one glance.

 

The first comment she made on his collection was to that display box.

 

“What about that one?” Shimizu asked as her nails pointed at the certain box some feet away behind Oikawa.

 

Oikawa looked pass his shoulder to see the box that Shimizu was particularly interested in.

 

_Ah. How sharp, my Queen._

“Hmn?” Oikawa mumbled as he tore his gaze away from the display box and proceeded to bite Shimizu’s earlobe. His next whisper was probably the gentlest sentiment Shimizu had ever heard passing the Grand Demon King’s lips.

 

“That…was my best friend, the love of my life, Iwa-chan.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

And Oikawa fucked Shimizu hard against the wall –harder than he had ever been.

 

Shimizu screamed as Oikawa entered her raw and deep, no stimulation prior; Iwa-chan’s closed eyes continued to haunt not only the Queen, but the King as well.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

There were times when he remained on her bed after he satiated himself with her. It even went beyond the hours after he finished restoring his energy back –which usually only took two hours at maximum. But in these few times, he still refused to leave her bed even when his energy was back.

 

Oikawa slept by her side, but Shimizu knew the King was never truly rested. In the midst of the dreams he might have had, the King was never one to truly be at ease. Sometimes she watched him sleep, nearly unguarded, to the point that she fell asleep herself. Then she opened her eyes and she saw his eyes were no longer red, but deep brown, and they stared at her.

 

“Aw, don’t wake up yet, My Queen,” he pouted. “I love seeing you asleep.”

 

She thought it was funny, because she loved seeing him asleep as well. Not that she would ever tell him that though.

 

His finger came to touch her black hair and twirled it around his fingers. In turn, she placed her palm against his chest and felt the calm heartbeats beneath his ribcage. Lazing around on bed like this, it was almost like a thing lovers would do. It was almost like he was not a Demon King who had shed blood of any men who opposed him. It was almost like she was not an evil Siren who was indifferent to each corpse falling behind her tails. It was almost like whatever heartless things they committed outside this door never happened.

 

“I had nightmares,” he confessed.

 

“About?” she asked back.

 

“Many,” he replied. “Many things haunt me. That’s the price one has to pay for becoming a King.”

 

“Isn’t that a low price to pay for what you have done?”

 

He chuckled. His Queen really did not have the slightest fear of angering him, it seemed. “It is,” he agreed in the end.

 

“What are your nightmares?” she asked; unusually curious. When a succubus made sexual contacts with men, she could see their thoughts and memories. But Oikawa was always a different case. Maybe because he overpowered her, or maybe because Oikawa just had too many layers to him, Shimizu could never really read what he was actually thinking.

 

“Hm,” he pondered, as if he was debating which one he should disclose first. “Iwa-chan’s eyes right before I beheaded him? My father’s laugh when he thought his sword could kill me?” he shrugged and tried to recollect more. “Ushijima’s victory over my port towns last year?” he thought harder. “Tobio-chan’s innocent smile when he beat me in archery? Yes, that last one is petty, I know.”

 

The edges of Shimizu’s lips were slightly tugged upward at the last one. Oikawa must have been mesmerized for a moment because he found himself asking back.

 

“Do succubus dream?” he asked; his fingers remained intertwined between her hair.

 

“We can’t,” Shimizu answered.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Dreams come to those who are deeply attached towards something. By default, succubus are not created for that. We don’t really feel or have particular sentiment towards anything.”

 

“Not even to me? When I’m this irresistible?”

 

She gave him a deadpanned stare.

 

He chuckled. “It would be nice if you can dream about me someday, Kiyoko-chan.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

He fell asleep and sometimes she wondered, whether he dreamed of her once in a while.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

  

It was during one celebratory dinner that the two little mice were caught.

 

“Come on, Oikawa. They’re just kids,” Kuroo noted as Oikawa pointed his sword to the pair of a young boy and a young girl trembling on the floor –caught after stealing some food from the gala dinner.

 

“We’re not kids! We’re already 16 years old!” the boy, one with bright orange hair, shouted as he kept his arms around the blonde-haired girl. The boy was afraid, Shimizu could tell. But fear did not always make you back away from menace.

 

Oikawa laughed. “What is 16 years when compared to my demon’s lifespan, kiddo? What’s your name?” he asked in friendly tone, though the sword was not lowered.

 

“Hinata Shoyo! And one day I’m going to be –“

 

“And the girl?” Oikawa interrupted.

 

“H-Hitoka Yachi!” the girl muttered in shiver as she bowed her head. “Please forgive us, Grand King! We were just too hungry and if we can just work here to pay for the food we stole –“

 

“Yachi! I’m not working for the Demon King! I won’t –“

 

“Alright, alright, kids, don’t shout too loud in my throne room. My Queen likes it quiet, right, my Queen?” Oikawa looked at his left, where Shimizu was sitting in her naturally graceful manner.

 

“No, it’s fine. They look like energetic kids. I don’t mind them,” Shimizu replied with a tint of motherly smile on her face.

 

Kuroo laughed and Oikawa pouted. “You two are never really on my side, are you?” the King scowled. Returning his gaze to the two short pair, Oikawa smiled, though his next word was anything but kind. “We have too many staffs here, so no extra manpower is needed. But I do run out of kids’ skulls collection, so –”

 

“I do need more servants, actually, Oikawa,” Shimizu interrupted –ignoring the loud choir by her existing two followers ( _“But you have us already, Kiyoko-san!”_ ). Glancing at Hinata and Yachi, Shimizu noted, “The boy can work to groom your horse. You always complain that their manes are never shiny enough. And I do need a chambermaid, so the girl can be that.”

 

Oikawa narrowed his eyes towards his Queen –who maintained her chin high. He knew it was stupid of him for thinking this, but he just had an inkling. “I don’t know, my Queen. My gut’s telling me that this kid is going to be troublesome one day.”

 

Kuroo easily rested his arm on Oikawa’s shoulder –only the General and the Queen could so much do that kind of defiance towards the Grand King. “This boy looks like he can be our secret weapon. Lend him for me to train in my spare time, Oikawa. I want him too. You don’t mind, right, Shimizu?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Oikawa sighed. When these two were ganging up against him, he really did not have much to say.

 

“Fine.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

“S-Shimizu-sama, thank you so much for earlier! I owe you my life! If there is anything I can do for you, please do not ever hesitate to ask!” Yachi Hitoka exclaimed once Shimizu took her away from the throne room (the orange-haired boy was in Kuroo’s custody).

 

“Don’t mention it,” Shimizu waved it off as she walked Yachi to a small maid room located not far from her own. “Oikawa needs to be hold back sometimes. It is my duty to do so,” she added before she put the key into the room and unlocked it. When she turned back to gaze at the blonde-haired girl, Shimizu noted her tense shoulders. Relaxing her face to form a smile, she asked, “Do I scare you?”

 

“N-no! Not at all! Y-you’re just so beautiful and so kindhearted, I-I…I really don’t deserve any of this! I am forever indebted to you, Shimizu-sama!”

 

Shimizu smiled softly. She wondered what Yachi would think of her if she told her the amount of men who died because of her –the number of which Shimizu could barely count herself. “Don’t worry. I usually can manage myself, so you don’t really need to work here. Just make sure not to cross path with Oikawa when you’re not with me. I can’t always guarantee your safety.”

 

Yachi was still staring at her, and this time her stare had nothing to do with admiration or nervousness. Shimizu patiently waited until Yachi braced herself to ask the question.

 

“The Grand King… he is your husband, right?”

 

There was never any wedding or even a nation-wide announcement of it. But that day two years ago, it just started to become a known-fact to everyone: that the Grand Demon King now had his queen, the very own infamous last succubus who was rumored to be behind his continuing greatness. The explanation was better made brief, so Shimizu only replied, “Yes.”

 

“How can you love someone like that, Shimizu-sama?” Yachi slowly asked, and by the look of it, it was almost like she did not even realize she was asking the question out loud. “That man is…evil.”

 

“Well,” Shimizu murmured as she gave a pensive gaze towards the window. “Maybe because rotten souls only deserve each other?”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Maybe Shimizu loved Oikawa. Maybe she hated him. Maybe she wanted to run away from this castle. Maybe she wanted to be trapped in it. She did not know. At the end of the day, she supposed Oikawa Tooru, the cruelest Grand Demon King in history, had just become an existence she was getting too used to.

 

Shimizu was used to his childishness. Him being petty when Shimizu just happened to pour more wine to Kuroo’s glass than to Oikawa’s. Him needing an hour to choose the right robe for the day ( _Shimizu always rolled her eyes. “They’re both black, Oikawa.” To which he would reply “But no, Kiyoko-chan! This one is actually ashy black, and this one is metallic black! They’re different! And why won’t you call me Tooru already?!_ ”). Him grinning proudly when he managed to beat Nishinoya in the Who-Can-Praise-Shimizu-Kiyoko-more.

 

And at the same time, Shimizu was used to his cruel self. The Demon King who lived up to his name and his ancestors –if not more. The King who would spend sleepless nights so that he could finalize the battle strategy to fully claim Shiratorizawa (now a third region thereof was Oikawa’s). The King who would have a twisted smile when he fucked her like a dog on the floor. The King who had not a single pity in his eyes when he ordered for the execution of his troops who were too scared for the battle.

 

If, and she stressed it out, _if… if_ she was even somehow in love with the Grand Demon King, Shimizu did not even know which part of him that made her love him. She was not as unnecessarily evil as him, but she was not a saint either. Maybe a bigger part of her leaned more to loving him when he was one sadistic King.

 

So sadistic, that even the King would order her to do this.

 

“The Holy Priest of Karasuno,” Oikawa announced the title of the gray-haired young man who was captured, tied, and forced to kneel before his throne. “Sugawara, is it? I believe you are the strategist of the Karasuno militias? You must know a lot of things that will be of use to me.”

 

Sugawara lifted his head to look up towards the throne. There was nothing but calmness in his eyes. “You may torture or even kill me, Demon King. But I will never say anything that will harm my friends.”

 

Oikawa smirked to that. His captain of the first platoon, Matsukawa, who managed to capture the Priest, requested the permission to speak. “With your permission, my King,” he began. “I believe you don’t have to go through the trouble of interrogating him. Let me and my men bring him to the torture chamber and –“

 

Waving his hand to silence his captain, Oikawa then gave his mandate, “No. This one is important. I’d like to interrogate him myself. You may all leave.”

 

“But My King –”

 

“He’s a Priest,” Oikawa smiled. “No offense. But at most, what harm can he inflict me? Preach me to turn ways?” he chuckled. “Leave me and let me handle him alone.”

 

Matsukawa and his men bowed and took their leave. Shimizu took a deep breath and was about to get up from her chair as well when Oikawa called her.

 

“No, not you, My Queen. You are to stay here,” the King ordered and even lightly tapped the place on his thigh. Shimizu knew what Oikawa wanted so she obliged: she approached her King and sat on his lap. Oikawa’s smirk widened as he bravely trailed his hand down to her chest and gave a light squeeze on her right breast.

 

Sugawara tore his gaze away. Oikawa widened his grin. Shimizu hissed. The King’s way of intimately handling her was nothing new, but he never went as far as doing this in the presence of a third party.

 

“O-Oikawa,” Shimizu moaned when Oikawa’s hand slipped into her tight leather bustier and fondled her breast directly. He sensually rolled her nipple between his fingers and Shimizu quickly grabbed his hand and tried to pry it off her body. “M-my King,” she rasped. “Not here. Not now.”

 

The King only leered and even went to lift her right thigh and easily shifted her body so she completely sat on top of him. And while he verbally ignored Shimizu, his hand only trailed down to touch the middle of her core and frolicked her there in front of the Holy Priest.

 

“My Queen,” Oikawa introduced as he continued to hump Shimizu from behind and shot his words straight to Sugawara. “Beautiful creature, isn’t she? Am I not an extremely lucky man to be able to do this to her whenever I want it?” he noted as he licked Shimizu’s neck slowly. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in my life, to be honest.”

 

“…You really are a disgrace,” Sugawara mouthed –eyes still pried away from the indecent sight at the throne.

 

“And lucky you, my friend,” Oikawa grinned. “I’ll allow you to have a taste of her too!”

 

Oikawa’s exclaim was one too cheerful that both Sugawara and Shimizu froze upon the words.

 

“Oikawa, what do you mean?” Shimizu asked, but was soon quieted down when his finger pushed deep into her.

 

Still not addressing any of his Queen’s concern, the King only spoke to the Priest. “I’m sure you know what race my Queen is from, right, Priest? Succubus have long been extinct and she is the only one of her kind now. And you know what succubus does, Priest?”

 

Sugawara paled and Shimizu only closed her eyes because she knew what was to come.

 

“She can suck a life force, basically kill, any man she fucks. But not only that!” Oikawa claimed as if he was about to give a grand prize to an awardee. “When a succubus sucks a man’s life force, she can also see all memories and knowledge of such man.”

 

Sugawara shook his head in dread. “Y-you don’t –“

 

“Now, my Queen,” Oikawa muttered as he turned Shimizu’s body to face him. “Please do me a favor and get as many information as you can, alright?”

 

“No!” Sugawara shrieked. “No! Don’t do this! Please! Not this!” he screamed as he tried to stand up and run, but the shackles chained him down to the floor.

 

Shimizu sighed. Beads of sweat were rolling off her skin because Oikawa could make her come with his fingers much faster lately. “…Do I really have to?” she asked.

 

Oikawa swept Shimizu’s bangs tenderly. She felt something in her ribcage actually cracked when the sadistic King even pulled her close to kiss her on the lips. He had never kissed her this way. Not this gentle, not this protective, not this loving. And she thought that what a twist of irony of all these to happen now? Now, when her heart wanted to melt into him and harden herself to be a sword that would pierce him.

 

The King pulled his lips away but never too far. Against her lips was his warm breath, and he murmured, “Please, Kiyoko. I can only count you for this. It’s not that I want to give you to any man, but… the information would be substantial to fully perish the Karasuno militia. I can't conquer Shiratorizawa for so long I still worry about the rebels.”

 

Shimizu looked at him, and his eyes were those dark brown instead of red. His red eyes always made it an ultimatum, but she knew she was particularly weak for his brown ones instead.

 

And besides, in the end, it came to the fact that the day she accepted his offer to be his Queen was the day she agreed to be his pawn. To be used, manipulated, discarded one day.

 

With a sigh, Shimizu lifted herself off Oikawa’s lap. “Very well, My King,” she said and she quickly averted her face before the King could lay his palm on her cheek. With a composed gaze, she turned her back and stepped down his throne to approach the poor priest who was now staring at her in dread.

 

Oikawa flicked his fingers and the shackles around Sugawara’s wrists and ankles came off. But before the Priest could make the dash of his life, Shimizu closed her eyes and allowed her power to submerge. Black leather whips sprang from the floor and bound the Priest eagle-spread on the floor instead.

 

“No, please…” Sugawara pled. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this to yourself. You don’t deserve this,” he stuttered. Shimizu would have sympathized and believed the Priest more had she not seen the bulge on his lower region.

 

She mentally scoffed. In the end, men were just the same. She must have spent too much time with the Demon King to even forget how mortals react to her.

 

Kneeling and bending herself down on top of the priest, Shimizu only did what she was born to do the best.

 

Giving a man his most beautiful death.

 

“I promise it won’t hurt,” she cooed as she pulled the Priest’s tunic off and wrapped her hands around his shaft.

 

And as Sugawara cried out, Shimizu found the crack in her heart widened. It came not from this poor Priest’s cry, but rather, from the big laugh coming from above the throne –such a big, sad, pathetic laugh the King made as he jerked himself upon the sight of his own wife fucking another man.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

“That was a really useful information. You did an excellent job,” Oikawa complimented after Shimizu told him the memories and knowledge of the Priest –now laying dead on the ground.

 

Shimizu did not say anything else. Slowly, she kneeled down to roll her leather suit back up. Oikawa stared as her for a few second, before he decided to walk past her. The information from the Priest’ memory required several follow-up actions. Urgent preparation, emergency meeting –the Demon King would be busy.

 

She thought he had left, and he probably had, but then, a thick, warm cloak was dropped over her bare shoulders.

 

“Please don’t hate me for that,” Oikawa said, almost honest, almost with a trace of an apologetic smile.

 

His footsteps echoed behind her, but Shimizu couldn’t help but to ask.

 

“Would it even matter to you if I do?”

 

Oikawa stopped his steps for a second, before he resumed them –no affirmation or denial made.

 

Shimizu realized that it did not, but perhaps the King might have been too polite to say it out loud.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

Oikawa was barely around his castle after that. In the scarce moments that he was, he was always too preoccupied with his advisors and military personnel. In the scarcer moments where he was not out in the battle or in the meeting room, he would only lock himself in his Collection Hall. When he was tired and only had one option, Shimizu knew who Oikawa liked to talk to the most –even when the head could no longer say anything back in return.

 

Shimizu knew that even alive, her value was still lower than that of lifeless head of Iwa-chan that had nothing about him but death.

 

The days in his castle was mostly passed in silence then. Tanaka and Nishinoya had been ordered by the Grand King to guard the northern border –a feat that was only done when Shimizu said her agreement to it. With no kids to babysit, no King to serve, and basically with everyone else not daring to say a word to her, Yachi was the only one she could converse to. It had been hard at the first few months (the blonde-haired girl always flinched in her vicinity), but over the coarse of time, Yachi talked to the Queen even without being told to.

 

“So Hinata said that horses dunks really smell the worse out of all animals he knew. He said taking care of the dunks really took up all of his days, he barely had any time to train with Kuroo-sama. He regretted over it, because I think he kind of looked up to him. He thought that Kuroo-sama had given up on him,” Yachi recounted.

 

Shimizu had no obligation to pay attention to the chambermaids and servants’ gossips, but with basically nothing much to do, hearing Yachi’s story had become more interesting than reading books about baking tartines. She would usually just sit by her window as Yachi cleaned up her room, and the nonchalant mutters out of Yachi’s mouth started to be the things Shimizu looked up to for the day.

 

“Kuroo is highly interested in Hinata too, but he’s just too busy,” Shimizu commented. “If Hinata wants, I can ask Kuroo’s other apprentice, Lev, to join Hinata’s training. Lev does need a sparring partner himself.”

 

“Oh no, it’s all fine, Shimizu-sama! You don’t have to go to that extent!”

 

Shimizu shrugged. “It’s really nothing much. Lev would also be excited. Just ask Hinata and if that is agreeable, I can help arranging them to meet.”

 

Yachi stopped dusting off the table. “…You’re too kind.”

 

“It really is nothing much,” Shimizu insisted.

 

“No, not just this,” Yachi muttered. “For the Queen of this kingdom to even allow me talk like this… you’re just too kind,” Yachi said with a smile. “From where I and Hinata are from, it would have been a wonderful day if there was not anyone who would spat or beat us that day.”

 

Shimizu drew a deep breath. She kind of liked Yachi, and it started to bug her when the latter had an overly generous impression on her. “I’m anything but kind, Hitoka-chan,” Shimizu clarified. “If you know the things I did and I do, you wouldn’t call me kind at all.”

 

“But that’s all the Demon King’s order –“

 

“Not necessarily,” Shimizu interrupted, more to clarify Yachi’s stance rather than to defend her husband. “Even if Oikawa ordered me to kill some, it did not change the fact that I still killed those men. And I’ve never felt any remorse,” Shimizu boldly said as she studied Yachi’s reaction. “I don’t feel bad doing them. I don’t feel anything in particular.”

 

There. There would be two general possibilities: Yachi being scared of her, or Yachi hating her. Shimizu thought it was pity, but it was still better than letting an innocent child like Yachi had a misconception about her.

 

She expected Yachi to awkwardly resume cleaning. Or to leave the room. Or to even look at her with a silent disgust in her eyes.

 

But Yachi did neither of those. She dropped her broom though, and she calmly walked towards the window to hold Shimizu’s hand.

 

Shimizu’s eyes widened. The hand was small, not big like Oikawa’s. But it was so warm that even her cold skin almost yearned for the warmth to linger longer. It puzzled Shimizu how such warmth could come from a girl this petite, this young, and this –

 

“Don’t undervalue yourself, Shimizu-sama,” Yachi insisted and Shimizu wondered how ironic this was. The word was spoken by Oikawa once, but Oikawa’s had been manipulative while Yachi’s was…

 

…sincere, warm, forgiving –it nearly made Shimizu want to believe about something in her own self that she did not know she might have.

 

A soul.

 

“Don’t undervalue yourself,” Yachi repeated as the grip of her small hand tightened. “Deep down, I know you don’t want to do those. Deep down, I know you really are a kind person. You’ve just… spent such a long time alone believing that you don’t deserve any mercy, and I think… that’s too sad.”

 

“Sad? Me?” Shimizu asked. She had been called a lot of things: slut, witch, evil, heartless –but not _sad._ Never sad.

 

Yachi nodded. “But I believe, you can still change,” she said with a beam that was brighter than the sun –it burned Shimizu even more than Oikawa’s cruel nails.

 

Shimizu quickly released her hand off Yachi’s grip. At times like this, she had rather Oikawa burned her than Yachi wholeheartedly had this inexplicable belief in her. Shimizu thought that at least she deserved the former (but never the latter).

 

* * *

**To be Continued**

* * *

 

 


	2. The Wishing General

* * *

How easy it was for him.

 

Reclaiming back his territories now belonging to Wakatoshi Ushijima might have been a headache for decades, but _this_? This was easy.

 

Beheading people was always his favorite part of a battle. In his very own Wonderland, Oikawa was always the King of Heart. It was easy to behead people too, you see. When he was lazy, even his finger’s lightest drag against one’s neck could sever the head and the body. When he was in the rush to finish more in one go, he just drew his sword and swung it once –at minimum seven heads could be seen flying after.

 

“You know, Kuroo?” the Grand King asked as he pulled off a head of a soldier like one would pluck a daisy. “I’m kind of disappointed in you. When you said you needed me in the battle, I thought it was for a much stronger enemy forces. This?” he asked pleasantly as he threw the head away. “This level of resistance, I’m sure you could have handled this yourself.”

 

Kuroo smirked. The image of his King, the fearless and the feared, was truly the best sight to pump his own adrenaline in the battle. The picture of it was majestic: Oikawa standing on top of the corpses; with his robe full of blood so dry –it was almost black, and with eyes so red –the evidence of being the true lineage of a Demon King.

 

This display of power, this showcase of mercilessness… Kuroo would only bend his knees for those stronger than him, and it could only be Oikawa.

 

_And I will stand by your side until you bask yourself in the total victory light._

 

The black haired General swung his own gigantic sword against the upcoming batch of enemies. He casually addressed his King’s remark, “I actually wouldn’t have invited you here, had you not been so eager yourself.”

 

“So easy still. Give me a harder challenge next time,” Oikawa muttered as he knelt to grab the head of a man with spiky, silver hair.

 

“I’m wounded. This is actually not that easy. General Bokuto is one hell of a match. By the way, you didn’t finish him alone, Buddy. My spear actually pierced his body first before your sword beheaded him.”

 

Oikawa grinned. Fine. Any heads other than Ushijima could be Kuroo’s. If his General wanted it, the King would gladly grant him that. With that thought in mind, Oikawa handed the silver-haired head to Kuroo. “Alright, I’ll admit. This one is the hardest General we’ve fought in 50 years.”

 

“Still easy by your standard then?” Kuroo asked as he accepted General Bokuto’s head. What a nice head. Kuroo might copy Oikawa’s habit of collecting heads –Oikawa was kind of inspiring that way.

 

“Nah,” Oikawa mumbled incoherently as he gazed at the sun-setting sky. The orange gleam nearly blinded him. It had been sunset as well that time. “Anything would be easier to me when compared to beheading Iwa-chan.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Everytime Oikawa returned back to his castle from the battle, he had stories to tell.

 

About how his horse was acting up in the middle of the journey; about the result of his silent competition with Kuroo on who could slay the enemy the most (379 win and 136 loss); about the battle scars that would fade into perfect skin in the count of days; about the eye color of every commander he defeated.

 

Oikawa was a great storyteller. He witnessed many and he remembered equally as much. He kept the memories recorded in his head, and the first thing he would do back in the castle was to run to the south tower and tell him his grand conquest. He was an entertaining storyteller too. He would make sure all details were conveyed nicely, with enough exaggeration here and there.

 

And his sole audience would always be patient. He had been when he was alive, and still was when he was dead.

 

“…and so, that’s why I decided to give General Bokuto’s head to Kuroo, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa reasoned in front of the head kept within the glass display. “Kuroo didn’t say it, but I think he was actually thankful I did so. I don’t know, Iwa-chan. Might have been my feeling, but Kuroo and General Bokuto… they kind of remind me of us.”

 

And Iwa-chan would reply this with silence.

 

Oikawa chuckled. Iwa-chan, dearest Iwa-chan… his best friend, his love, his savior, his ultimate traitor. When even his father was eager to kill him, only in Iwa-chan, Oikawa could confide. Only by Iwa-chan, Oikawa could be fooled. Oh, how Oikawa was itched to touch the skin and hair, but no.

 

The beautiful head would rot easier when contaminated with air and touch. Oikawa liked to preserve Iwa-chan centuries and centuries later, he had rather not touched him again.

 

That night when he had killed him –there had been more than enough touches anyway.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

“What’s behind that door?”

 

Shimizu’s stomach churned upon hearing the voice. Frantically turning her head, the Witch saw exactly what she feared: Yachi standing behind her with a curious tilt of her blonde head. Immediately casting a worried look towards the door, Shimizu then grabbed Yachi’s wrist and teleported themselves. Only when Yachi and her were standing outside the south tower that Shimizu released the breath she did not know she was holding.

 

“Hitoka-chan, what were you doing? You couldn’t be seen in the south tower. If the King finds out, I really can’t do much,” Shimizu hissed.

 

“I-I’m sorry, Shimizu-sama,” the younger girl replied. “I was just following you because you looked unwell. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

Shimizu slowly shook her head and she eventually released her grip around Yachi’s wrist. “No, I’m fine. I apologize if I caused you to worry. But promise me never to go into this tower, and foremost never into that room.”

 

Yachi cast a glance up towards the tower. “The King has returned, hasn’t he? Was he inside that room? What’s in –“

 

“Nothing that you should concern yourself with,” Shimizu interrupted, but the mild surprise on Yachi’s eyes prompted the Witch to elaborate more. “In that room lays the King’s most important treasure. He protects it so much, so promise me, never go inside that room, alright?” Shimizu pled as she raised her hand to gently rub the top of Yachi’s head.

 

Yachi slowly nodded and Shimizu could only smile. Holding out her hand to Yachi, Shimizu then said, “Come on. Let’s just try to bake that cookies for Hinata. You said you want to give him something for his birthday, didn’t you?”

 

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

It was easy to know and tell to whom Hitoka Yachi had given her heart to. A sun only deserved a brighter sun. And Shimizu quite adored Hinata too, though not as much as the other sun. Suns blinded Shimizu, but she was always drawn to them. The light she would never have –even her dark soul secretly yearned for something that would burn her bare.

 

It was nothing much, she guessed. Nothing too serious. Just a little adoration, a little infatuation, a little protectiveness, perhaps a past time. Perhaps just an attempt to run from the real darkness that could suffocate even a witch with heart as dark as hers.

 

It was nothing much, but Shimizu visited her often at night. Even in sleep, even surrounded in darkness, the little girl still blinded her. Shimizu did not do much in each of her visit. Shimizu was always the true definition of grace and stealth –and she would only stare at the way Yachi peacefully slept –never aware of the other woman’s presence.

 

Sometimes Shimizu had the itch to touch the sun, but before she could even draw her fingers to hover over her supple cheek, she would close them back. Her dark nails would only hurt the sun –for as much as the sun dared to burn her, Shimizu was still a black hole who would swallow the sun if she was not careful herself.

 

So she would just stand still and watch the sun rest for the next day’s round of brilliance.

 

On nights where the urge to touch became unbearable, Shimizu would only bite her own hand as her other fingers trailed down to the softness of her own pelvic flesh. She was disgusted with herself, but in the world where nothing made sense, her own self-disgust was the least of her worry.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

“It seems that you’ve gotten kind of fond with the chambermaid?”

 

It seemed like months since she last heard his voice, and foremost him speaking directly to her again. Battles, meeting, intentional avoidance, maybe. Shimizu recalled that the last time she exchanged words with her husband was probably on the night she killed the Karasuno Holy Priest for the information.

 

Shimizu turned her attention away from the window to her King –standing by the entrance of her room. He looked relaxed, with an otherwise gentle smile on his face, like he just had released all things that could make him anxious. Shimizu knew that it had little to do with the battle and more with his scheduled visit to his Collection Hall.

 

The King walked to her bed and her dark eyes followed him. He sat on her comforter and the lazy drag of his index finger was enough to imply what he wanted from his queen.

 

“So? Is she any good?” he asked after Shimizu trailed her fingers on his thighs and knelt on the floor just in front of him.

 

“Who?” she asked as she tucked her hair behind her right ear. She ducked her head and began with his tip as her palms went straight to his balls.

 

Oikawa let a hiss out first when the witch’s lips were enclosed around him. Leaning backward, he propped one arm behind his back on the bed. He gazed up at the ceiling for a moment before he closed his eyes. “The chambermaid. The cute, little girl in blonde?”

 

Shimizu pulled her lips off him to answer. “Hitoka-chan? She’s a diligent worker, despite what she looks like.”

 

Oikawa gave a chuckle. “You know that wasn’t what I meant, Dear. Is she good at pleasing you?”

 

She opted to please him with her fingers instead of her tongue. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Oikawa’s throttle continued for a second, before his iron grip clenched around Shimizu’s neck and he pulled her to his eye level. Oikawa’s smile was intact –still ear to ear, still the biggest lie on his face. Shimizu choked when his grip tightened around her neck and he seethed next to her ear.

 

“Whatever I do and whatever I’ll become, you, my Queen, can only love me the most. Worship me the most. Understand?”

 

Shimizu’s nails lengthened spontaneously and the poison excreted from them were channeled through the skin of Oikawa’s hands. Succubus’ poison was always a trouble, but never enough trouble for the Demon King. Oikawa made it a priority to get his point across first.

 

“Y-you…” she choked and he gave her enough gap to breathe but never to be freed from his vice grasp. “You d-don’t even care.”

 

Oikawa laughed –deep and hollow ( _now, Hitoka-chan, this is a picture of a real sad being_ ). The King’s eyes were red and his next words were always curses than anything.

 

“Maybe not, but you’re still mine. Your body, your soul, your heart _,_ they are all still mine,” Oikawa demanded as he sealed it with a kiss.

 

It was only in this morbid way that the King could romance his Queen.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Not that it mattered. Shimizu only wanted Hitoka-chan to keep smiling like this –it was more than enough. Evil thing like her needed to know her place after all.

 

Anything more than this, any display of affection more than that, the storm would cloud the sun, and Shimizu knew she had better heeded Oikawa’s order than anything.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Even after living together with the Demon King all these years, Shimizu never ceased to understand the paradox that was him.

 

Sometimes he was easy to talk to. Other times it was equal to a suicide if Shimizu dared to say a consonant to him. Sometimes he would take all his wife’s and general’s belittling with nothing much but a childish whine in return. Other times, Shimizu felt like her blood froze when Oikawa did as much as spare her a half-lidded warning.

 

The grand doors to the castle were blasted open in hurry that day. Only the highest commanders were to carry the palladium, with General Kuroo in charge of giving instruction. Shimizu swept herself in one quick yet dainty movement to approach the sudden commotion inside the foyer hall.

 

The very person resting and groaning on the makeshift bed in the palladium was none other than the Grand King. As per Kuroo’s instruction, all the castle’s doctors were summoned and the King was to quickly moved to his room.

 

Shimizu approached the door. Kuroo was busy telling the mage to work on poison-counter dotes. Hinata and Yachi were trailing behind her curiously.

 

“What happened?” the Queen asked the General as she peeked through the gaps of the still-open door to the King’s bedroom –never were people inside it as much as it was now.

 

Kuroo stopped talking to the doctors and turned to his old friend instead. “A poisonous arrow pierced the King’s lungs. That Kageyama managed to outsmart him this time around,” Kuroo gritted his teeth. “It was a smart ambush.”

 

Shimizu tiptoed slightly so that she could get the sight behind Kuroo’s broad shoulders. “Will he be –“

 

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Kuroo quickly said. “He’ll live. But I’m not sure how much damage will the poison cause to his other senses and organs.”

 

Shimizu took a step closer to the King’s bedroom doors but Kuroo held her by the shoulders and shook his head.

 

“You know that at this rate, your body will naturally deplete the energy off a wounded man. I’m sorry, Shimizu, but stay away from him for the time being,” the General warned as he closed the doors in front of her face.

 

“S-so even the Grand King can bleed,” Hinata softly muttered behind Shimizu –his eyes were transfixed on the blood trail outside the door.

 

Shimizu nodded absentmindedly. Throughout all the years living together with him, she had never seen Oikawa got injured –not even the slightest. But more than her curiosity of how he could bleed, Shimizu wondered more whether the King could feel pain too.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

In her bed that night, she remembered that he could.

 

The brown eyes that were nearly nonchalant when he spoke of his best friend –that was the very picture of someone who had carried pain his entire life.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

“It’s not really that he outsmarted me, really. Not at all. Tobio-chan was just being sneaky. There’s a difference. And partially, I was the one who created the opportunity –he did not create the opportunity himself,” Oikawa ranted.

 

It had been a week since the King was treated in his bedroom. Kuroo had told her that he had gotten better and it would be safe for Oikawa to be in Shimizu’s vicinity now.

 

Oikawa was always the type to take everything to the extreme though. Being allowed to be near a succubus should not have meant that he could cling around her when he was in his recovering period, but clinging to her he did.

 

On his great bed, him hugging her in sleeping like this with the same arms that choked her just months prior. Day by day, Shimizu lived with a growing belief there were two identities inside the King’s body.

 

She exhaled a sigh. He did not summon her to his bed for sex. Had it been the case, she would have been ruined twice in the span of this one hour. But alas, all the King did was to cuddle her like she was a big teddy bear. He had ordered (begged like a child) her to hug him back. While she could never say no to that or any of his order, Shimizu was still careful not to lay her hand on the wound on his back –where Tobio Kageyama’s poisonous arrow had pierced the King’s body.

 

“How much did it hurt?” she asked; palms moving to the opposite direction of his wound instead.

 

“It did not hurt,” Oikawa insisted.

 

“Kuroo mentioned you could not even move for three days straight.”

 

“Kuroo likes to exaggerate, you know that.”

 

Shimizu experimentally poked on the arrow wound near his back and the King shrieked. She sighed and quickly pulled herself away from his embrace to point out. “And you like to pretend you’re all that.”

 

The King tried to nurse the wound on his back but his arm could not reach it. Shimizu would have helped him, but she knew her hands were never to be salve to his wound anyway.

 

“Fine. It hurts a lot,” the King admitted as he gave up and laid on his back on the bed. “Tobio-chan used the nectar of the legendary flower for the poison. That flower only grows once every two hundred years though. I’ve ordered those flowers to be burned. So unless he still has the reserve, he’ll never beat me again.”

 

“He was close of killing you though,” Shimizu pointed out.

 

“Close,” he acknowledged. “But I will never allow a cheeky brat like him to kill me.”

 

That sounded like a sentence that needed a correction. “You’ll never allow anyone to kill you.”

 

And her outburst sounded like a sentence that called for an execution. Shimizu blinked when the words rolled out of her lips, but Oikawa only glanced at her with a calm gaze. He looked at her standing by his bed, but there was no menace in his eyes.

 

The King’s eyes –now brown again – only looked at her.

_No,_ Shimizu realized as she examined the gaze. He was not looking at her. Rather, he was looking at the shadow, the ghost, the sin that never stopped haunting him.

 

“There was… actually one person I allowed to kill me,” he softly began.

 

No other being could haunt the King better than _Iwa-chan,_ Shimizu knew. Even in his death, his ghost would never truly leave him.

 

“And I thought he would have…” he trailed. “Had he done so, I would have actually accepted it. Embraced it. I thought we could die together, but he unsheathed his sword at the last moment. While I…” he smiled to himself. “My sword did not even hesitate when it was swung across his neck.”

 

“…Did you wish you were dead?”

 

“…Sometimes.”

 

“You have yet to claim Ushijima’s head.”

 

“I know. That’s why… not now. And my dream…if I must die, I want to die like Iwa-chan.”

 

Shimizu did not avert her eyes from the King. “To be betrayed in your death?”

 

Oikawa only chuckled and slowly shook his head.

 

“No,” he softly whispered. “To die in the hand of a person whom I love and who loves me back.”

 

Shimizu did not have the heart to even convey the truth to Oikawa: that if it was truly his wish, he would probably never have it fulfilled –for Shimizu thought there could never be such person anymore.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The scary thing about _trying_ to overthrow the Demon King was that he would return the favor three times crueler.

 

It took only less than a year to capture nearly all of the associated rebels. Daichi, Kenma, Yamaguchi, Azumane, Shibayama, and of course, Tobio Kageyama.

 

The Demon King did not behead them as per usual. But he thought only the vilest torture to end their lives. Like letting Daichi be tied upside down and submerged under the river for two days, or tie Yamaguchi to a herd of running horses. By the time the horses finished the lap around town, there was not much of Yamaguchi’s body that could still be recognized.

 

Oikawa surprisingly gave a rather clean and quick execution for Kageyama. Only a pierce of a poisonous arrow shot when the latter was kept down in the arena. Shimizu thought there was a sentimental note between the two, but inquiring it would be useless now.

 

Yachi shrieked when she saw the public execution and Shimizu quickly pulled the younger girl’s body and buried her face onto her chest. From the way Yachi reacted towards a supposed stranger’s death…Shimizu got her hunch confirmed there and then.

 

“Clean that corpse’s wound and embalm him. I would like that one to go into my Collection Hall,” the King instructed Maki as he turned his body around. “Kuroo, Shimizu, meet me in the throne room. I want to focus on the third stage of Shiratorizawa conquer now.”

 

Kuroo nodded and immediately followed the King. Shimizu sighed and after caressing Yachi’s head several times, she carefully pushed her body away from her.

 

But Yachi immediately clutched Shimizu’s arms and looked up at her teary-eyed.

 

“Don’t,” Yachi begged. “Don’t follow such a sinful person anymore, Shimizu-sama. _Please._ ”

 

Ah, her little sunshine… how much she would like to defy the pit of hell so that she could embrace the sun back.

 

But Shimizu knew her role. She already shared Oikawa’s bloodied footsteps and her King’s sins were hers too. It was a duty of the Queen to always be his shadow.

 

“I’m sorry, Hitoka-chan,” Shimizu earnestly whispered as she freed herself from Yachi’s grasp, turned around and followed the Nightmare King who had always been waiting for her.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

“Have you had any dream lately?” Oikawa asked Shimizu one night after the intercourse. They did it on his bed –and now that Shimizu thought about it, it had been quite a while since she last slept in her own room.

 

The Queen looked up at the canopy of his bed instead. She closed her eyes before she made her reply.

 

“Succubus cannot technically dream,” she repeated the information she had shared to him years prior.

 

He was playing with the strands of her black hair. The gesture was almost intimate, and Shimizu was growing more uncomfortable with it. Oikawa absentmindedly continued to twirl the strands between his fingers as he murmured, “…I recall you said that’s because you don’t have any attachment towards anything?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I don’t have any dreams either lately,” the King confessed. “Not even about Iwa-chan. Not even about my father. Does that mean I no longer have attachment towards things as well?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied. “Do you still have things you want to pursue? Technically you still haven’t fully conquered Shiratorizawa.”

 

“I wonder,” he muttered instead as he released her hair from his fingers and laid on his back on the mattress. “Lately, I wonder what I’m doing any of these for.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The rapid rate of the Demon Kingdom’s expansion was almost too scary. Shiratorizawa remained a fortress yet to be conquered, but looking at all the progress, total victory would not have been too farfetched.

 

But the King, with even more and more he took, grew more restless. He was demonic by default, but Shimizu still recounted the moments where he would turn into such an easy target of bully who could only screech pathetically in return. Shimizu did nor remember when the last time the King laughed again.

 

And always being one of the two beings closest to the King, that man realized it too.

 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Kuroo noted to Shimizu. Both advisors were standing behind the pillars of the grand balcony where Oikawa was giving the pre-battle speech to his troops.

 

“How bad?” Shimizu asked back. She did have a bad hunch as well; she just needed to measure Kuroo’s level of intuition.

 

The dark-haired general heaved a sigh and laid his back against the pillar. Crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest, he only shrugged. “Technically speaking, this is all going very well. Our troops are in their highest peak of strength and the enemies are scattered. There should not be any real threat.”

 

“But exactly because it all goes too well,” Shimizu understood. “It is easier to flip.” And like a telepathic comprehension, Shimizu just knew that Oikawa understood this point equally as much as she and Kuroo did. If anything, the one who realized how easy it would be to fall from the highest place would be the one at the highest place himself –and that was only Oikawa.

 

“Can I ask you a favor, Shimizu?” Kuroo said as he lifted his chin and stared at his centuries-old friend.

 

Shimizu did not say anything, but the calm gaze of her indigo-gray eyes were enough to confirm the commitment.

“Be the King’s shield,” Kuroo requested. “I’ll be his sword. I’ll purge his enemies for him, open the way for his eternal authority, bear his sins for him…but I will never be able to protect him always.”

 

“You are far more suited to be his shield than I do,” Shimizu reminded. “…I really can’t do much.”

 

“Don’t undervalue yourself.”

 

At that statement, Shimizu blinked. The words meant eternal chain when spoken by Oikawa; undeserved mercy when spoken by Yachi; but with Kuroo…

 

…it was an honest trust.

 

Smiling to herself for the first time in a long while, Shimizu only shrugged.

 

The crowd cheered down below and it indicated that Oikawa had finished delivering his speech. Kuroo straightened his back and gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. He would need to go and prepare his troops first before Oikawa joined them for the battle, and there were many other things he needed to do first before –

 

“Kuroo,” Shimizu called.

 

The General turned around and the Queen was standing in front of him. He widened his eyes when the Queen grabbed his hand and held it firm in her much smaller grasp.

 

“You too,” she whispered. “Be careful.”

 

His surprise slowly melted into a chuckle. “Now this is the real bad omen, Shimizu. This is actually making me feel rather nervous for the battle. Never had it in a long while.”

 

She smirked and only gazed up to catch his higher eyes. “Don’t overthink it. Succubus are bad at predicting things anyway.”

 

The General’s smile lingered as he brought his other hand to rub her hair. And behind them, someone cleared his throat.

 

“Well, well,” Oikawa announced his presence as he pouted and tilted his head. “My Queen and my General are having an affair behind my back? I feel so betrayed. What are you two talking about?” the King grumpily muttered, but the mood was comical –finally, after a while.

 

To that, Shimizu and Kuroo only glanced at each other before they both stared at Oikawa with identical shrug and tease.

 

“You’ll never know.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

With Oikawa and Kuroo off to the battle, Shimizu was left rather alone in the castle again. The quietness of the palace would have been perfect really –eased her nerves more, had it not been for the one mild, nearly unnoticeable change.

 

But Shimizu had lived long enough to perceive a lot of things, including this very subtle resistance coming from Yachi.

 

The Witch noticed that this had started ever since Oikawa executed Kageyama Tobio: Yachi suddenly pulling the distance away from her. The much younger girl did not particularly hide or blatantly avoid her mistress, no. The maid still catered to her wish, still came every morning to clean her room, sometimes still talked about the idle things, but Shimizu knew that Yachi no longer viewed her the same again.

 

“Are you disappointed in me?” Shimizu asked one morning when she caught the maid was staring rather blankly at the big portrait of Shimizu (drawn courtesy to Oikawa’s insistence) in the corridor.

 

The little girl yelped, and the tip of the iceberg that was closest to Shimizu’s heart trembled. It had been quite a long while since Shimizu saw her clumsy self.

 

“N-no, my Queen, I was just…” she stammered before she let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just not really myself lately.”

 

Shimizu took a step closer to Yachi and by her side, the former also took a note of the grand portrait of herself. Now that Shimizu looked at the portrait, she could kind of understood why Yachi thought she was such a sad person. The image of the woman in the drawing, while dressed in the country’s most expensive jewels and most exquisite dress, was truly… quite a pathetic one.

 

“You knew Kageyama Tobio before, didn’t you?” Shimizu asked straight to the point.

 

Yachi tensed, and it did not escape Shimizu’s eyes.

 

“A lover? A brother?” Shimizu tried to guess, but she realized that she might have intruded the privacy. “I’m sorry. It’s really not my place to ask this.”

 

“No…” Yachi slowly shook her head. “Kageyama-kun… it’s just that…”

 

Yachi could not finish, so Shimizu pushed more, “Do you hate the King?”

 

Tense and no answer again. Shimizu thought that Yachi should have learned to lie better. It was alright when she was with her, but in front of the King, she would be rendered lifeless with a flick of a finger.

 

“Do you hate me?” Shimizu asked again.

 

“No!” Yachi immediately shouted as she turned to her side.

 

 _Ah,_ Shimizu noted to herself. How weak her heart was –one moment she hoped Yachi could lie better and the other moment, Shimizu yearned for that sincerity she did not want to release. Her little salvation in this foreboding place. Shimizu was selfish that way: on one hand, she knew she had to devote everything she had to the King, but on the other hand, she still refused to let go of the brim of light that was Hitoka Yachi.

 

“No, I don’t hate you, Shimizu-sama,” Yachi softly confirmed. “I can never hate you, but…” she bowed her head and the picture was so heartbreaking: the little girl was on the verge of crying but she was holding it all still. It almost made her look weak, but no. Despite the lack of power the little girl had, Shimizu knew Yachi was anything but weak. It took only the courageous to ever forgive a sinful existence like Shimizu, and Shimizu perfectly understood the extent of Yachi’s strength, but…

 

…the sight of the girl in front of her now: stifling her cries, tightening her small fists –Oikawa might have been beautiful and extravagant and majestic and all the superlatives associated with his natural grandness, but Yachi, she was just…

 

…perfect in the subtlest and most effortless way.

 

And in whatever sense of perfection that engulfed her, probably for the first time since Shimizu took the first breath of life, she did the one thing that even her mind could not follow.

 

Lifting Yachi’s chin slightly, Shimizu bent down to kiss the little girl on the lips. The petals were small, supple, soft and salty –and Shimizu felt a pierce in her iceberg beating thing beneath her ribcage when they shivered upon her touch.

 

“S-Shimizu-sama?” Yachi stuttered as she blushed in furious red after Shimizu drew her lips back. The blonde-haired girl stiffened again when she felt the succubus’ cold lips kiss-trailed the tears she did not know she had shed.

 

But Shimizu stopped herself after kissing her tears. Staring at the Queen with round, dumbfounded eyes, Yachi only added her stupefied expression with lips parted open in a half-round shape.

 

 _Adorable,_ Shimizu thought.

 

_But adorable thing cannot be tainted more than once._

“If I may request you one thing, Hitoka-chan,” Her Majesty spoke, seemingly unaffected while the other girl was basically an almost gaping statue. “Don’t cry in front of me anymore, please?”

 

“Y-yes…” Yachi replied, still unable to connect the dots.

 

Shimizu smiled and pivoted her heels around and began to walk away.

 

There. She had touched the taboo. Now the sun rays would creep beneath her skin, and Shimizu hoped that if it could, she would like to have her iceberg heart be burnt to dust as a punishment.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

“Coward. I didn’t know that he was such a _coward,_ ” Oikawa mouthed the sentiment that was in substance more derogatory than his other more frugal cursing.

 

Sitting on the Queen’s chair next to the King’s throne, Shimizu only took a sip of her wine as the rants came flowing from her husband’s lips.

 

The troops came back from the battle faster than Shimizu had expected. And as per usual, the grand gala party would be held for the troops and the royalties upon every success the King and his General brought from battle. The party unfolding in front of her eyes had been the most festive Shimizu had witnessed ever since she stepped into Oikawa’s castle –and that was for a reason.

 

The Shiratorizawa’s last fortress had fallen to Oikawa’s hands. The Demon King now officially held the title of the biggest ruler in this land, and it was the claim not even any of his ancestor managed to hold. Oikawa was the first to fully realize it.

 

But claiming Shiratorizawa was not equal to claiming Ushijima –it seemed. And this had been the very core reason why even the big festivity in front of the King’s eyes could not entertain him that much.

 

“Come on, let’s not focus on the bad things when we have a celebration to enjoy,” Kuroo reminded as he stood in front of the sulking King and tried to pour more wine to his glass.

 

“It is not a complete victory,” Oikawa grunted and he raised his palm to refuse the celebratory drink. “Shiratorizawa Fortress was basically filled only with the weak soldiers. Ushijima escaped,” he hissed. “How dare he. How cowardice. I am actually very disappointed in him. I didn’t think he was this kind of king. I’m _really_ disappointed.”

 

Kuroo walked to Shimizu’s seat and poured her more wine instead. Nodding to Kuroo first, Shimizu then turned to face Oikawa as she placed her chin on her propped arm. “That’s actually a classic but still efficient move from Ushijima,” Shimizu commented. “Claiming a kingdom but not the king is never a sign to rest the battle. If I were him, I would eat my own pride and escape so that later on I can build stronger troops. Heard that Tsukishima from the Karasuno militia is lately closely-linked with Ushijima.”

 

Kuroo cringed at Shimizu’s explanation. “Dear Shimizu. I don’t think this is the perfect time to ruin the celebra –“

 

“I know that!” the King howled. “I would not rest until I get that man’s head! Mark my words!” Oikawa stammered. He then turned to his General and mandated, “Stop this celebration. We still have lots to do. Tomorrow we will continue to work hard to hunt Ushijima. I won’t celebrate anything until I have his head in my hand!”

 

And with that and the gallant swift of his robe, the King stood from his throne and walked out of the grand hall. Kuroo narrowed his eyes to Shimizu as the latter only continued to drink her wine. Heaving a sigh, Kuroo noted to his friend, “I know it’s good to be cautious and all. But you shouldn’t have provoked him. He needs to relax once in a while.”

 

“I wouldn’t have provoked him because usually you do all the provocation yourself. You didn’t this time.”

 

Kuroo shrugged. “I’m just learning to be more sincere. That kiddo kind of has that influence on me lately.”

 

“Hinata?”

 

“Quite an excellent apprentice, by the way. He and Lev were the one who actually managed to open the Shiratorizawa’s gates from the inside,” Kuroo complimented. “But seriously. I’m kind of worried about Oikawa. He seems so…off lately.”

 

“It’s a critical time for him,” Shimizu decided as she twirled her wine glass. “It is not the enemy I fear the most for the King, Kuroo. It is himself. If he basks too much in victory, he would start to lose his purpose. And once Oikawa loses his purpose…” she trailed and the memory of his lost gaze entered her mind again. “…No shield nor sword would be able to protect him from himself.”

 

Kuroo blinked. “You said that on purpose then?”

 

“Other part of it being an objective observation,” Shimizu noted. “After Oikawa himself, I am worried about the possible Ushijima and Tsukishima alliance.”

 

Kuroo only chuckled before he dunked the remains of his wine in one big gulp. “Oh, Shimizu. Now I don’t know whether introducing you to Oikawa was a good decision or not.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Shimizu did not even know herself whether Kuroo’s decision years and years prior to introduce her to Oikawa was wise or not. She just thought that for as long as the King reigned and he had not discarded her from the position of being his queen, she would just stick to him and did what she thought was the best for him.

 

On that night of celebration, Nishinoya and Tanaka returned temporarily from their guarding posts and demanded the same thing as they had demanded years ago.

 

“Shimizu-sama, let’s escape this place!” they screeched in unison –hyperactive mode activated in the fuel of alcohol. “It’s really been a while since we are able to serve by your side! Let us wander from one place to another. Together just the three of us! Just leave that stupid king alone!”

 

With a tint of playful smile on her face, she pointed out, “Be careful. That ‘stupid king’ is still my dear husband.” It was more to agitate Tanaka and Nishinoya than anything –it had been years since she last saw them –she kind of missed their overprotectiveness.

 

The horrified shriek was expected and Shimizu might have consumed too much alcohol too herself that she found herself laughing at their reactions.

 

“No! Shimizu-sama, don’t say that! Don’t defend that asshole!” Tanaka wailed.

 

Nishinoya gritted his teeth as he buried his face on his own arm. “Has he managed to seduce you finally, Shimizu-sama? Has he?” he sobbed. “Have you fallen in love with him?”

 

For her own sadistic viewing pleasure, Shimizu only shrugged and enjoyed the sight of the two little demons’ sobbing. And as Nishinoya and Tanaka’s minds were clouded by their own speculation, Shimizu only rested her tired back on her chair –her gaze fell to the empty throne of her King.

 

Love? Towards the Demon King?

 

Shimizu wished it was that easy to classify. With Yachi, it had always been relatively easier to admit, to acknowledge, to accept. Yachi was the closest thing to a love she could never have –but that was easy to understand and accept –though her heart was chirped little by little on the fact that she could never have her.

 

But with Oikawa? The line was always blurred. It was something between devotion, loyalty, responsibility, trust, adoration…and on the other side, the disappointment, chain, self-loathing when she allowed him to abuse her, to manipulate and use her, and…

 

…she just did not know.

 

She had told Nishinoya and Tanaka once that this castle was the closest thing she could have to a home, and now, she could very much add the sentiment that Oikawa was just simply the closest thing to a purpose that she could ever have.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

It was always in the most peaceful night that the storm hit.

 

It was only a couple of nights after the Shiratorizawa’s downfall celebration when the mouse bared the fangs it hid. It was in the private meeting between the King and his two most trusted advisors –the General and the Queen. They just completed the mapping of Tsukishima’s trail and with the plan secured, even Shimizu allowed herself to relax. They drank. They were less cautious.

 

And while deep down Shimizu always had the what-if’s, she just never suspected it to happen like this.

 

Oikawa’s guts had been right all along.

 

“Kuroo!” Shimizu screamed –never had she screamed that loud, that _terrified_. She was the farthest from the two –no, three of them, and she quickly dashed to the fallen General who was now bathed in his own blood –more and more crippling down the hole in his heart where the silver knife stabbed him.

 

Hinata, the little sun, the prodigy apprentice, who nearly had his chance. Who nearly had himself the victory of assassinating the Demon King –had it not been for the General who noticed in the last second and took the blow for himself.

 

Oikawa also roared in anger as a swift of his hand now sent black and thorny sprawled over the little boy’s body –now held in his thorn cage against the wall.

 

“You!” he screamed angrily at Hinata –just a boy, just a mortal boy whose pupils were dilated that he resembled a demon more so than the Demon King himself.  “How dare you!”

 

But the mouse gritted his teeth in anger as well. His fist was clenched tightly as he glared murderously at the Demon King. “It should have been you!” Hinata screamed. “Kuroo-san, it shouldn’t have been Kuroo-san! It should have been you!”

 

Oikawa screamed again –black shadow formed behind his back as his magical whips were splashed onto the boy now pinned high to the wall. So short, so small, so devious.

 

Shimizu would have done something about Oikawa and Hinata, but Kuroo bleeding and whimpering on the floor already scared the shit out of her so much. The silver dagger was turning black when it was soaked in Kuroo’s blood, and Shimizu had seen that before: when Oikawa had been pierced by Kageyama’s arrow… the poison that only existed once in two hundred years… now that poison was spreading all over Kuroo’s system.

 

Desperation swirled inside her. She wanted to kneel by her dear friend’s side, put his head on his lap, nurse and take care of him, but…

 

…but she was a succubus. And before a wounded man, she knew she would only accelerate the death.

 

_No…Not Kuroo…_

“Guards!” The Queen, rare, so rare, she used her authority to make her order. “Call the doctors now!” she screamed as she took steps away from Kuroo. “Save Kuroo at all cost!” she mandated.

 

The guards came seconds later. Shimizu was still standing as far as she could. Oikawa finally tore his attention from Hinata. The guards were here and they could handle Hinata. Oikawa would _personally_ take care of this rotten mouse later, but now…

 

“Kuroo,” the King spoke as he knelt beside his advisor. The doctors were working to pull out the dagger off his ribcage, and Oikawa could not do much aside from holding the rough hand of the now dying General.

 

If there was one thing Oikawa could never beat Kuroo on, it was a hand wrestle competition. But the hand now was getting colder and colder, and the grip was so weak that Oikawa had to clench it hard for it not to slip off his grasp.

 

With gritted teeth, Oikawa muttered, “General, I order you to stay alive. You have not yet fulfilled your duty. You are still to stay by my side for a long time, and you are not…” his jaw trembled. “Kuroo, damnit, this is too easy! You can’t be beaten like this! This is too easy, you shithead!”

 

Chuckling blood, Kuroo only stared at the King –ah, the Majestic King, so grand, so powerful, so demonic –that concerned and broken look did not suit such a being as grandiose as him. Kuroo bowed to no one but the King. So only by his side that he would allow himself be this low, humble being.

 

“I’m w-wounded. This is actually not t-that easy, Buddy,” he smiled but only coughed blood after.

 

“Kuroo!” Oikawa screamed. “Stay by my side! That’s an order! That’s a fucking order and you must obey me!”

 

The medic had taken the dagger but the poison had spread too much. It was a straight and fatal stab to one’s heart. The Demon King had survived a similar wound for it had not pierced his heart, but the General? A strong demon himself, but never as strong as the king, and when it ripped his heart –blood only carried the lethal substance faster through his veins.

 

He lost.

 

Breathing was getting difficult. Even keeping his eyes open was difficult. Kuroo could barely see Oikawa anymore, but he knew the King was there, and for the King…

 

Laying one bloodied palm on the King’s face, it would only be one among many invisible scars the King could never erase.

 

“My King,” he breathed out. “It has been my g-greatest honor to s-serve you. I r-regret I won’t be there to see you bask in the light of total g-glory…”

 

“Kuroo, don’t you dare!” Oikawa yelled –tears were gashing out of those invisible scars Kuroo created on Oikawa’s self.

 

“And my b-buddy,” Kuroo gritted his teeth. “M-my stupid buddy, i-it’s been…” his voice was getting duller, and Oikawa was practically pressing his forehead against Kuroo’s by that time. “…such a worthwhile j-journey with you…”

 

Shimizu gritted her own teeth as she drew her hands to cover her mouth. It was too late, she knew. Even without her presence, she knew Kuroo’s time was running out, and she did not like this. She _hated_ this. Never had she feel this strong sentiment before, and she just…she just…

 

In the briefest moment where Oikawa buried his face against Kuroo’s shoulders, Kuroo glanced at Shimizu.

 

A soft smile grazed the General’s face. He had run out of time to speak his words to her, but she knew. With Kuroo, it was always the silent understanding, the almost telepathic bond, and she knew what she wanted to say.

 

_Take care of my buddy, Shimizu._

And as Kuroo drew his last breath, and as Oikawa’s scream deafened everything around her, Shimizu realized one thing.

 

Kuroo had asked her to be Oikawa’s shield, but no. All along, it was Kuroo. Kuroo had been Oikawa’s shield all along.

 

And now the shield was broken.

 

One pillar of this world’s most wicked, strongest, most demonic trinity had fallen.

 

Shimizu shut her eyes so tight, but the sight of the fallen general, her dearest friend, her trusted ally…the eyes that were still open in his death –that last sight of him would be carved deep into her memory and she allowed it. Let her mind be carved. Let her memory be scarred. Kuroo deserved to gnaw his paws deep into her skin and to remind her of the strong soul she could not save.

 

Kuroo, her dear friend, dear, so dear…he had protected her, cared for her, and Shimizu could not protect him back in return when he had been her very own shield all these time.

 

And Oikawa was not the only person losing his shield that night.

 

* * *

**To be Continued**

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and you've been warned...i guess? hehe. anyway thanks for reading till the end!


	3. The Dream Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourself for a long ride, guys

They were the trinity –the unholy version of it.

 

The most infamous one was undoubtedly the King. He was the face every citizen would secretly love to spit on, but also the voice everyone had to obey. He was the strongest pillar, the main actor, the _King_ –the title itself held the worth. Every victory the kingdom claimed was his and every trail of sins that followed would be his as well.

 

By the King’s side, there was of course the Queen. Seen more as a useless symbol hidden behind the castle doors and gossips than anything, but to the trinity, she was always something more. The mediator, the most rational voice, the rumored tactician behind each battle strategy. She wedged no sword nor spear, but every blood that was shed was hers too.

 

And then…there was the General. Brute strength and muscles; more associated as pawns than anything –but two would beg to differ. He was the one who could have had everything. One who could even very much be the king himself. But he was always one who took the steps back when the others were unwilling to. He was their latch, their foundation, their sword, their shield –even if at the end of the day he were to be lowered into a mere pawn, he was an indispensable one.

 

They were the notorious. The three most hated beings in the country also happened to be the three most important pillars that held the whole country together. Without them, the demon land would never see the peak of glory.

 

_“After we manage to claim Shiratorizawa, what do you want?” the King had asked the two one night. “It is irrefutable that I cannot claim it without both of you. So once we conquer it, what rewards would you two like?”_

_“It’s still too far,” the Queen reminded. “Do not dream too high, Oikawa.”_

_“Kiyoko, it’s not that far! Why do you always love to crush my hope? And it’s just a harmless question! For so long that you don’t request for a divorce, dear wife. That, I cannot grant.”_

_“Then I’ll have no other wish to be granted,” she deadpanned –more to enjoy the sound of the King’s wail than anything._

_“Cruel! Oh, what a cruel wife I have! Kuroo! I’ve decided not to hear any of this cruel woman’s wish! So her portion of wish is yours. You got two, now.”_

_The General laugh –a big gruff so manner less, but one that charged through a platoon of enemies never needed any manner. “I got two, then? Cool. I know you would want to have Ushijima’s head, but his sword… can you give it to me?”_

_“Granted,” Oikawa waved it easily. “And the other one? Because Kiyoko decides to waive her right?”_

_Kuroo glanced at Kiyoko. The latter only shrugged –never too interested in the conversation from the very beginning – but as her long time friend, he knew how to speak on her behalf as well._

_“Then, because this is Shimizu’s wish too,” Kuroo smirked at the King. “Even after you claim Shiratorizawa and beat Ushijima, just allow us to stay by your side always, my King.”_

_Oikawa blinked, before he burst into a chuckle._

_“Hey, for two supposedly most evil creatures in this kingdom, you two are breaking the stereotypes way too much.”_

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The King had been calm.

 

So calm, and probably a part of Shimizu would have been rather proud of how mature the childish King had become. She would have appreciated it, had it not been for the grave reminder of what was lost in return.

 

The funeral of the General had been held humbly. For someone so great, so detrimental to the expansion of the Demon King’s territory, the funeral was almost too simple. The people were left to mourn by themselves ( _but who were there to mourn? To the oppressed citizens, the death of the General responsible for many atrocities was just a karmic consequence_ ). Oikawa held a military funeral attended only by him, the Queen, and few of the high-ranking captains.

 

“He told me once,” Oikawa relayed to Shimizu as the two of them watched the coffin descended beneath the ground. “He never wanted to be embalmed. He told me a while ago that if he died, he wanted to be buried in the ground of the Demon King. So that he could be the soil that would support the kingdom.”

 

“It suits him,” Shimizu whispered almost inaudibly. One would think a man as gallant as Kuroo would want everything to be grant –even to his funeral, but no. Shimizu knew that Kuroo had always been the most selfless of them all –as much as the quality did not suit a Demon General like him. And even in his death, he would continue the role.

 

Before Shimizu knew Oikawa, she knew Kuroo first. Centuries ago, when she heard that he had become the Demon King’s trusted aid, Shimizu had questioned whether he had the ambition to become the King himself. Of all people, probably aside from Kageyama and Ushijima, Kuroo had the highest chance to overthrow the King if he wanted to. But no. He never did that.

 

“I would have given my kingdom to him if he had asked,” Oikawa confessed.

 

“To him, you are more important than the kingdom,” Shimizu responded, and Oikawa turned to face her. “That’s the extent of his belief to you.”

 

Oikawa closed his eyes. For this moment, he did not want to be the King. For this moment, he only wanted to be someone worthy of Kuroo’s belief on him.

 

For this moment, he only wanted to be a good friend.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

It all mattered very little to Shimizu after that.

 

Three days after Kuroo’s funeral, the King finally took his place back at his throne and made his order.

 

“Summon him.”

 

The boy with bright orange hair was shackled when Maki and his guards brought him in. Oikawa did not show any expression, and neither did Hinata. Shimizu also could not find the urge to do anything herself. She knew what the King would order. And while she usually was there to restrain the King’s order, at this moment, she could not care any less. She did not know what to feel. The scars Kuroo left were still burning her skin.

 

It was almost methodical. No one was angry. No one fought. Shimizu did not care. Oikawa did not care. Even Hinata did not care. How calm they were all.

 

“To be honest, a part of me wants to torture you in the most painful way possible,” Oikawa said from his throne to the boy forced to kneel down. “But Kiddo,” he chuckled weakly. “It’s just … so tiring, isn’t it?”

 

Hinata said not a word.

 

“Three years ago when you came into this castle,” Oikawa began again. “Did you already have the intention to assassinate me back then?”

 

“…No,” Hinata eventually admitted. There was no longer any secret he needed to keep. No other identity he needed to protect. Hinata knew that when his time was running out, few actually mattered. “I was just a decoy. Just someone tasked to learn your weakness. But I was never supposed to kill you.”

 

“But?” Oikawa patiently asked.

 

“But you killed Kageyama,” Hinata muttered, and for the first time since he was brought to the throne room, the fire in his eyes blazed again. “Y-you…you killed him.”

 

“Ah,” Oikawa noted. “I see. So I killed your friend.”

 

Hinata threw his gaze away.

 

“But you also killed my friend,” Oikawa said and the calmness started to crack. “Now, I know this is only an endless vicious cycle, but kiddo,” he chuckled. “This _burning,_ it doesn’t die down, you know? This pain…did you feel this way too when Tobio-chan died?”

 

Hinata did not answer, but the fire on his eyes conveyed the message clear enough.

 

Shimizu closed her eyes. She did not want to see this. She was just so tired. Everyone felt this pain. A greater majority would argue that Oikawa and her deserved this all, if not more, but at this point, Shimizu just couldn’t give any coherent thoughts.

 

“Any last word?” the King asked almost gently.

 

“When it’s your turn,” Hinata hissed. “When it’s your turn to fall, you will fall _hard,_ Demon King. You will fall so hard and you will reap what you sow.”

 

A smile crossed Oikawa’s face. “That’s too cliché. Young kids like you should be more creative, you know?”

 

Shimizu wished she could care, but she really could not. Kuroo…Kuroo had stolen her time. With his death, he had taken away the little something in her, and she just… she really could not care as much as she wanted to. Did she want to torture Hinata as well? Did she want to stop Oikawa from committing even further crime? She did not know.

 

Apathy. This was her back to square one.

 

 _As it should be,_ she realized. _Feelings are heavy._

And her time stopped. Her time stopped when Oikawa ran his electric current through his thorny shackles around Hinata’s body. There was a scream –Shimizu did not care. There were multiple electrifications –Shimizu did not care. There was a torture against a body of a kid who no longer had a life –Shimizu did not care. There was a foul stench of flesh burnt for being electrocuted too many times already –Shimizu did not care. There was a hope that died, a soul that was perished, hearts that were broken – Shimizu did not care. She wouldn’t care even if –

 

“Bring that other girl in,” Oikawa mandated after God knew how many times he had electrocuted Hinata. The corpse was now nothing but a lump of burnt flesh.

 

The doors were pushed open, and a shriek of a young girl was all it took to snap Shimizu back into reality.

 

“Hinata!” Yachi screamed as she broke down to her knees and cried. “Hinata! No!” she screamed and cried hysterically. Even the heavy shackles around her wrists did not slow her down as she ran towards the lump that was her very own sun.

 

Life returned to Shimizu’s eyes.

 

Oikawa let the girl sobbed by Hinata’s corpse for a while until he asked almost too tenderly again, “I think it won’t be a farfetched assumption to conclude that you are also his ally, little girl?”

 

Yachi did not even look at Oikawa’s eyes; she did not even fear the possible outcome for ignoring the King. All that mattered to Yachi was this…this person, her sunshine, her _everything_ was ripped off her. The hell with the Demon King.

 

“No objection?” Oikawa reconfirmed almost lazily –the bluish electricity ball was glistening on the tips of his fingers. “I really don’t like to kill girls, you know. And I know you are never a threat. But,” he chuckled. “I guess I’ve never been much of a virtuous man and –”

 

“Oikawa,” Shimizu broke from her shell and slowly descended the throne to stand by her husband’s side. Oikawa halted his fingers movements and turned around –his queen was now holding his wrist. _Ah, dear queen. I told you not to play with the fire…_

 

A crook of twisted smile grazed the King’s face. “Yes, my Queen?”

 

“This girl has nothing to do with Kuroo’s death,” she reminded. “She is innocent.”

 

The crack on the calmness spread. His Queen just liked to test his patience, eh? “And since when, Kiyoko, do I care about that?”

 

“It brings no merits to you,” Shimizu reminded as she tried to be as logical as she could. Oikawa was far stronger than her, and her power was nothing to him. But if she could just persuade him…just maybe, maybe it was worth the try. “We lost Kuroo. Rationally speaking, we have lost such a valuable asset. We need to focus on the defense more than anything now. Without Kuroo –“

 

“Oh, fuck it, Kiyoko,” Oikawa snapped, and even Shimizu was taken aback. Oikawa had been sadistic to her countless times before, but he had _never_ used such vulgar word to her. “Don’t you play proper with me now. Just say it! Say what we all know! You don’t want me to kill a girl you want to fuck, right?”

 

Even Yachi halted her sobs. Shimizu maintained her gaze steady as she tried to talk some sense to Oikawa. “We’d better focus on a much more important thing.”

 

Baffled, Oikawa gritted his teeth as he stared murderously at Shimizu. “Bullshit, dear wife,” he snorted. “You think I’ll allow you keep your own fuck toy? When I can’t keep mine?! When mine is just a head I couldn’t save, and you _dare_ to love someone when mine…when mine is…” he gritted. “…when Iwa-chan must die and I must suffer, you think I’ll allow you keep your bitch alive so you can be saved alone?!”

 

Taking a deep breath, Shimizu strengthened her grip around Oikawa’s wrist. “Oikawa, it’s not –“

 

The King laughed. The King laughed because he was such a sad, _petty_ soul all along. How dare the Queen salvage herself? Oh, the injustice.

 

He would just show her who the man in charge was.

 

With a twist of smirk, he used his other hand to throw the electricity ball to Yachi.

 

The blonde-haired girl screamed as the currents shot through her body and the sight, the scream, the pain…

 

Shimizu couldn’t bear it.

 

“My King!” Shimizu screamed, and she quickly dropped herself to the ground.

 

_“Do queens need to bow to the kings as well?”_

 

Desperate… she had never be this desperate. It surprised herself. It even surprised Oikawa to the extent that he stopped the electric current running through Yachi’s body. The young mortal girl cried –the pain was unbelievable ( _did Hinata really feel this ten times more?_ ), but she was alive. Left whimpering and pained on the floor –it took her only the next two seconds before Yachi lost her consciousness.

 

The mortal girl was not the King’s worry at the time though. What took his attention more was this. The Queen. His Queen. _Bowing_ to him. Kneeling in front of him. Low, so low on the ground. The haughty and the undisturbed queen even went to the extent of degrading herself like this…

 

“My King,” Shimizu begged and she had never begged like that to Oikawa. Never bowed before Oikawa. Never kissed his boots. Never, never asked for something as much as this. “My King, please _,”_ she sobbed and the sight was so foreign to Oikawa’s eyes. “My King, please, do not kill this girl.”

 

Oikawa stared wide-eyed at his wife, now bowing flat on the floor and did not even dare to raise her head. His lips were parted open in confusion. This was not the Queen that he knew. And for this stranger now pleading with all her soul, he needed to know one thing.

 

“…Do you love her this much?”

 

_You never even bowed to me before. Never begged to me before._

“My King, my King, please. This is my only request,” Shimizu chanted. “Only this. I’m forever yours, but only this, do not kill this girl. I beg you.”

 

She did not know how long she had bowed low on the ground. Or how long had Oikawa stared dumbfounded at her. But eventually, the King made his decision.

 

“Fine, my Queen,” the King agreed. “I’ll spare her, but that’s only because you pled this much.”

 

Shimizu slowly lifted her face from the ground. And looking up at Oikawa –she saw his eyes were brown again, brown and normal, yet…

 

…there was almost a sense of disbelief on his eyes; like he had been betrayed.

 

She gulped. An angry, red-eyed Oikawa always made her tremble in fear. But a disappointed, brown-eyed Oikawa made her feel like all her worth had been peeled off. Still, the King’s mercy was more than what she deserved and to that, there could only be one response. “…Thank you,” Shimizu whispered.

 

The corner of Oikawa’s eyes twitched, and Shimizu knew that the line she crossed would bear herself a consequence. But that was for the later. She would receive the punishment she deserved later, for so long that Yachi could make it alive another day.

 

Oikawa did not spare her much of a glance afterwards. With only a strong jerk, he pulled his boots away from Shimizu’s grasp. The swift of robe was waved in front of her eyes as he turned and walked out of the throne room.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

She kept her distance away in the chambermaid’s bedroom. Knowing very well she could never soothe anyone wounded, Shimizu requested another maid to take care of Yachi’s burnt wounds while the Queen herself waited at a safe distance.

 

Neither said anything for a while and Shimizu thought it being that way was fine too. But then Yachi broke the silent agreement.

 

“…You shouldn’t have done that,” the girl was sitting on her bed as she stared at the wall. “Thank you, Shimizu-sama. But honestly, that was unnecessary.”

 

Shimizu made sure that the other maid had finished putting the salve and bandages over Yachi’s wound before she politely asked the third party to leave the room. Only after the door was closed that Shimizu spoke again.

 

“He could have killed you.”

 

“He could have, couldn’t he?” Yachi snorted, and the bitterness was so unfamiliar that it caught Shimizu off guard. “Oh, what couldn’t the Demon King do? Conquering territories that aren’t his? Murdering innocent people? Severing so many bonds? He could have done it all. Easily.”

 

The beam of the sun was dimming, but it did not mean Shimizu would leave it that way. “Hitoka-chan…”

 

“I should have died as well,” she sobbed. “I should have died when they all die.”

 

With a gulp, Shimizu sat on her bed and promised the girl. “I would try my best to make sure he wouldn’t do anything to –“

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Yachi interrupted with a smile so broken; Shimizu realized that several things would never stay the same again after. “Kageyama-kun, Hinata-kun, ” she looked down to her bandaged hands. “I have no one else now.”

 

Shimizu’s hands were itched to take a hold of her smaller ones, but she knew her limit. She could not. But even when she could not hold her, she could at least assure her this.

 

“You’re not alone,” Shimizu softly reminded. “You still have m –“

 

“I don’t want you, Shimizu-sama!” Yachi snapped and the nano-second flash of pain on Shimizu’s eyes nearly made Yachi’s tears rolled faster. But no. If there were tears that she had to shed, it was only for those who deserved it. Like Kageyama and Hinata. And the other Karasuno militas. People who had courageously risked their lives _and_ had their lives truly taken as the price for trying to overthrow the tyrant. Those were the people who deserved her tears.

 

Someone who was as much as a killing doll did not deserve her tears.

 

“…I’m sorry,” Shimizu whispered. “I know how painful it is for you. Kuroo…no, I don’t mean to say it as an eye to an eye. But I, too, know how devastating it is to lose something.”

 

“That still doesn’t make us the same,” Yachi pointed out and Shimizu wondered since when this little girl had morphed herself into such a cynical being. Shimizu knew she would care for her still, no matter how much she changed, but she just…felt what a shame it would be for the sun not to shine again in this dark palace. “We’re too different. I thought I could understand you, Shimizu-sama. But I really don’t,” she paused. “And I’m not sure if I want to anyway.”

 

“I wouldn’t ask for such privilege,” Shimizu ascertained. “I know what I’ve done deserve no mercy. But even this unworthy me... let me protect you,” her hand made hesitant move to crawl towards Yachi’s bandaged hands.

 

But Yachi pulled her hands away. Throwing her gaze equally afar, she made the decision.

 

“At one point, I am always indebted to you, Shimizu-sama. But I… I can’t return your feelings.”

 

Shimizu nodded. “I understand. And I don’t ask for it. You don’t have to give me anything in return. Just allow me to –“

 

“No, you don’t get it,” Yachi murmured. “Even this…no matter how unconditional it is, I…when I look at you, all I see is the King’s shadow, and I…” she gritted her teeth. “I can’t even look at you anymore. You… carried too much of him in you.”

 

Shimizu was silenced.

 

Yachi shut her eyes and buried her face onto her palms. The action would wet her bandage and Shimizu was tempted to pry her hands away, but Yachi had warned her against it.

 

“All I want,” Yachi began to sob. “All I want is to have Hinata-kun back. And Kageyama-kun. And Daichi-san. And Yamaguchi, and the others… And if you can’t give them back, please, Shimizu-sama, I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to hear your voice anymore. I don’t want you near me anymore. I-I …”

 

The tears were drenching her bandages already, and she did not know how long she had cried, how long she had suffered, but by the time she lifted her face again, there was no one else in her room.

 

Yachi was thankful that Shimizu did not even say a word when she left. Her voice would only remind her of the Demon King and she had rather died than to hear such cruel voice again.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

They were the runaways.

 

The almighty; they had the kingdom under their rule; people who would bow when they passed by; but even the almighties could never escape the ghost of the past.

 

He did not talk to him lately. He walked into his Collection Hall and stopped in front of a certain display box. Gazing at the bodiless head whose eyes were now forever closed, Oikawa did not know from where he should start. There were many things that he had not told Iwa-chan lately. But hey, if the afterlife did exist, maybe Kuroo would say everything on his behalf.

 

Besides, how could the words to a dead head matter? Would his voice reach him? Would his story make Iwa-chan smile? Oikawa was the very reason Iwa could no longer smile in the first place.

 

There had been many things he had asked to Iwa-chan’s head; many things he had told him. But there was one thing that, no matter how many years passed, he never _dared_ to ask.

 

Oikawa did not know what urged him to ask the silent question now after all these years.

 

“Why didn’t you kill me back then, Iwa-chan?” he asked as his finger traced the glass surface –the closest he would allow himself to him. “Why did you unsheathe your sword at the last second? Why did you let me kill you?”

 

The head never spoke; the head never answered.

 

“Was it because you trusted me?” Oikawa asked again. “Did you believe in me so much? Did you believe I would not have beheaded you?”

 

Silence. Only the silence and the ghosts of all the heads he beheaded that judged the Demon King.

 

He chuckled to himself. Tearing his eyes off Iwa-chan’s eyes momentarily, Oikawa glanced at the empty glass box. Ushijima’s head was projected to fill the space, but even if he managed to capture Ushijima and place his head there… what would it be then?

 

Just an additional head to judge and purge him into this damnation.

 

“What…” Oikawa wondered. “Is this…it?”

 

_if I can’t have you, then will any of these be for naught?_

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Ever since the death of the General, the King did not show his face in the public again. People silently sighed in relief. The King was never someone whose presence would be missed. Everyone would have revolted against him if they could, but the only fine line was that they _never_ could.

 

It was lonely on top.

 

Even the Queen had not seen much of the King ever since that day he executed Hinata Shoyo and nearly, Hitoka Yachi. He had locked himself mainly in the Collection Hall, shutting himself and not interacting with anyone other than Iwa-chan, and occasionally the other heads as well. Rumors said that the King had gone crazy. The Queen begged to differ; her husband had been crazy all along.

 

“There’s no better time to escape than now, Shimizu-san,” Nishinoya still persisted even after all these years. “The King barely has any interest in anything anymore. This is the right time. If you escape now, he won’t notice.”

 

“He won’t even care,” Tanaka added.

 

“He never cares,” Shimizu corrected. People thought that the King changed. Shimizu thought that there was not much that was different. It had always been like this –others just did not realize it before.

 

“Then why?” Nishinoya demanded. “Why are you still here?”

 

She had wondered about it too. So when Noya asked her the question, she was not too flabbergasted.

 

“Half of it was Kuroo. Another part is because it’s my duty. I am to serve him until he reaches his goal.”

 

“Rumors said that even Ushijima had relinquished everything and tried to live as normal people now. There’s no longer any goal. There’s nothing left to…” Noya paused when Shimizu still gazed at the starless sky. Her sky never had any sun. With a deep sigh, Noya spoke again, “Shimizu-san, we just want you to be happy.”

 

Noya and Tanaka’s wish for her to be happy…that was such an expensive dream she could never afford. After all she did, after all sins that were too heavy, Shimizu acknowledged it would be so _ungrateful_ of her to wish for something so luxurious like that.

 

“Shimizu-san,” Tanaka looked straight at her. “Don’t bear that person’s sins.”

 

Then, she realized it. Tanaka’s statement just confirmed the gaps that she did not know how to fill. Looking at her two loyal confidants, Shimizu smiled warmly at them.

 

A Queen was the King’s shadow; the King’s holder. Everything that the King did, the Queen would follow. His victory was hers. His sins were hers as well. It was not a duty; it was a purpose, it was her fate.

 

And for someone like her, who never had a purpose to her existence, that was the only thing she deserved.

 

“Thank you for being loyal to me all these times, Noya, Tanaka,” she softly spoke. “But from now on, please forget about me and live your lives freely.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Shimizu never dared to enter the Collection Room without his invitation before. But she guessed that when one had so much surrendered everything and had nothing else to wish for, nothing was too scary anymore. She did not fear his wrath, she did not fear him electrocuting her like what he did to Hinata, she did not fear him, no longer. When the King had too many people who feared and hated him, the Queen’s lack of fear on him could at the very least balance everything.

 

“It’s been a while,” she greeted and he turned his attention away from Iwa-chan’s head to look at the new presence in the Collection Room.

 

There was more of a curiosity than anger, and Oikawa tilted his head in bedazzlement. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Despite the words, his tone was civil.

 

“Does a queen need a reason to see the king now?” she asked as she invited herself further.

 

He narrowed his eyes; skeptical, careful. “I thought you’d be all in the honeymoon period with your lady lover.”

 

“Well,” Shimizu remarked as she bridged the distance more. “Apparently you’re not the only one who couldn’t have your lover, my King.”

 

Oikawa blinked, before his glance softened into a knowing one. Almost playfully, he nudged, “So now you’re seeking a replacement in me?”

 

“No,” Shimizu confirmed. “None of us can replace what the other considers important. Just as I can never replace Iwaizumi-san.”

 

“Ah,” he nodded. “That’s true.” Oikawa kept his gaze locked at Iwa-chan’s head but the curiosity lingering in his mind pushed him to seek more elaboration. “So why are you here? Why haven’t you escaped? I heard that some troops have even run away. To be honest, I won’t be surprised if the enemy already sneaks into the castle.”

 

“And your point?”

 

He frowned at her question. “There’s no point in staying here with me.”

 

Shimizu raised her chin slightly –the gesture was mirroring her arched eyebrow. “That kind of helplessness doesn’t suit you, my King.”

 

He chuckled before he broke into another smile. Almost earnest. Chestnut brown eyes that were almost foreign, but familiar ( _you will be missed_ ). “…Kuroo is dead, Kiyoko,” he reminded her. “I’ve lost my General. My troops are scattered. It’s just a matter of time before someone is sent to assassinate me and it will be it.”

 

The steps she took were slow, but eventually, she stood in front of him. Looking up, Shimizu softly demanded, “And you’d allow it? Without realizing Kuroo’s dream first, you’d allow yourself die that easy?”

 

His brown eyes widened slightly. The words that were rolled out of his lips were a slow and painful slur. “…Kuroo’s dream?”

 

“For you to stand tall once you claim it all,” she stated. “When this kingdom, _your_ kingdom, truly becomes the strongest of all.”

 

“And he wanted to be there by my side,” he remembered the next. “Which is no longer possible.”

 

“But buried in the ground, he would witness it still,” Shimizu noted. “This land, this land that now he is part of… can only be a land worthy of all grandness.”

 

A tug on the edge of his lips. “Of victory.”

 

“And glory,” Shimizu sealed it.

 

Oikawa smiled. “And through it all, you’ll stay by my side?”

 

Shimizu stared at Oikawa for a moment, before she, for the first time and not by any force, not by any fear, not by any desperate wish to beg for something… for the first time and by her own consciousness and voluntary wish, bent down and bowed before him.

 

“Forever at your service, my King. Until you realize all of your… and Kuroo’s dreams.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The heads had been the witnesses all along, but that time, they had each other to witness it too.

 

It was a place of the macabre; where the heads were battle scars –some he was proud of, some he eternally damned himself for. The place was to reminisce the bloody path the King took and the Queen shared. If this demon world was hell, then this was the pit of it –inferno.

 

And only the unholiest of all the unholy fitted to be there.

 

The moon in the demon land was always silver and at certain night, the glow would illuminate even that lowest pit of hell. He stood at a respectable distance –Iwa-chan’s display glass was between them, and over Iwa-chan’s head, he could see her bathed in the moonlight. The place the moon touched glistened the most when her pale hand had shed the attire.

 

It was slow. Deliberate fingers that peeled off her tight leather suit were her own. He watched her undress herself. She locked her gaze with him. It was almost secure, almost safe, like she had nothing else to fear. Rolling the last article of clothing off her skin, Shimizu stepped out of the pile but stopped there.

 

He took the steps closer. Her body was tainted by no scar –the only scars that marred her were always beneath the skin. She was broken and vacant inside, but her shell was always…

 

“So beautiful,” Oikawa whispered as he laid his palm over her cheek. He had breathed the word to her so many times already, and he had meant each and every one of it. But this time, he just wanted to surrender himself to her complete beauty and be perished by it. “So beautiful, my Queen.”

 

She smirked in return. “So as to deserve you, my King.”

 

The sweet words, the sweet nothing and the sweet everything. Honey-drip touches that would soothe and sting at the same time. It was always in all this contradiction that they understood each other the most. Next to them was Iwa-chan’s head. But then again, to them, it could only be romantic when it was disturbing. Irony was always both of their sweetest darling.

 

His touch did not burn as much as usual, and neither was his lips on hers. She could only wish that the touches she laid as she shed his clothing did not burn him either. She might have had the urge to hurt him a lot of times, but this time was not one of those.

 

This time, this time she only wanted to be basked by him, and nothing more.

 

His robe fell with a soft sound. Unlike her, he had many clothing and jewels attached. She helped him take them all off. But neither rushed it. In the drops of clothes and the clanking of the falling emblems, medallions, crests, the kisses were beheld. The lips refused to let go once they tasted the petals, and with more and more clothing discarded, the colder he felt and the more he needed to seek for the warmth.

 

Her chest heaved up when the last kiss rendered her breathless. He pulled himself away from her lips, but he let his forehead pressed against her still. Both her palms were flattened on his broad shoulder, now bare, and now she just needed to touch him more.

 

So she trailed her hands down across his chest, hard and alive, nearly mortal. She stopped at the place where something beat.

 

“Would you like to kill me?” Oikawa asked when he sensed her palm had not moved from his chest.

 

Shimizu looked up at him curiously. “Would you allow me to?”

 

He smiled down at her and his finger traced the soft line of her jaw and tilted her chin up. Her eyes without the glasses were always the shade of dusty granite –the calm before the storm. It was always magnetic. It always pulled him deep.

 

“Only when you promise to do the prerequisite,” he told her before he bent his shoulders down so that he could taste the sweetness of her lips again. “Could you?”

 

Icy heart was melted not by the strong blaze of storm, but always by the steadiest and calmest waves. Something in her was wretched. And when it was wretched, she felt it surged, it trailed from the depth of her hollow ribcage, up to fill her lungs until she found it hard to breathe, then it crawled through her throat until it broke against her lips when he allowed the smallest gap between them.

 

“I wish I could,” she squeaked, and she meant it. “I wish I could, Tooru.”

 

He watched her writhe, and what a sight it was. The strongest woman he had ever encountered in his life, now in his grasp, in his embrace, so sinful yet so rewarding. A bitter smile to promise the wish was pulled.

 

“If only I am not already in love with Iwa-chan, I would love you.”

 

“If only I am not already in love with Hitoka-chan, I, to you, would too.”

 

Oikawa wiped the tears Shimizu did not even know she had shed. “Then, we are both the loveless.”

 

“Be it.”

 

He nodded and agreed. “Be it.”

 

They said nothing afterward, but their touches meant everything. He held her back securely as he leaned forward to kiss her throat and down the butterfly kisses were splattered all over her chest. His lips clasped her left breast and she cried when she felt his tongue rolled and lapped around her nipple. Scorching. It was scorching and she gave up. Her legs gave up and she buckled. He held her strong still but he carefully descended her down.

 

Down on the tile, on the cold marble floor where the biting cold was a contrasting feel to the scorching heat that was Oikawa Tooru.

 

            _Could you also be my sun?_

_(No dearest. That one can’t do.)_

She arched herself and he met it with the wave of bare and sweaty skin of his own. Pressing her body hard and full against his front, he accepted it all. Shimizu’s hands moved from his chest down to the body part she had memorized all too well. Warm hands were spread around the shaft. She did not pump him fast as she usually did, but even her softest touch lingered to spread life to his nether region.

 

His knees were by either side of her body, and they trembled when she had him in her grip. He nearly fell to her, but while he would succumb to her, he did not want to fall. Not now. Not when his ribcage was screaming because suddenly all rushed in, and he was all but a helpless being that needed no further cliff to fall from.

 

Her eyes were closed as she continued to sob, and she felt the droplets on her cheek. Wet and warm, _humane._

 

The King was crying too.

 

 _Cry with me,_ the words were not spoken from her lips, but he felt them reverberate throughout the deepest corner of his mind.

 

 _I will,_ he promised. _But_ _only if you will fall down together with me._

_Then, I will, too._

Her inside was warm and tight as he pushed through her and it filled him with everything that he thought he would ever need. She cried again and he howled. Primal and bare –just the simplest move and yet the most complicated feeling that were threatening to break both of them into millions of shards.

 

And broke they did.

 

Her poison flowed but it would not kill him. Always too strong to be killed, but forever too weak to be hold. He collapsed onto her and she could feel the whisk of his brown hair caressed her cheek. His breathing was heavy when he pulled out of her before he thrust back in. Rhythmic, but not systematic. This night was different. This night was unlike the others. This night he fell and broke and wept and cursed. And she all but bear it; his fall, his shards, his cries and his fate.

 

This night, and only for this night, she would forever carve this into her memory.

 

Next time? There would be no next time. Not like this one. Not this closest thing to a love they could have (but never could). Because she knew, and he knew too, that after this, and outside these doors, they would put back the cloaks of the King and the Queen and everything would return back to how it was and how it should be: the manipulator and his devil’s advocate, the thorn and the poison, the deadliest, cruelest demonic pair that would shed more blood and committed more sin.

 

And so, for this moment that would never to be repeated again, both just wanted to stay for the longest, longest time.

 

After all, irony might have been their best friend, but eternity? Not so much.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The hunt for Ushijima started after that.

 

With Kuroo’s absence, Oikawa did not assign anyone else to be the General, but now Shimizu ran through the forest with him too. She sneaked into the minds of men; the King used his Queen’s ability to the fullest. And she trailed information after information after each cum splattered from the different men. Like a chain, like a slut. And like it had been with the High Priest of Karasuno years and years prior, the King would only laugh and masturbated himself when he saw each of the dozens men who jerked in their death as she absorbed the information.

 

What a lovely, sick and twisted couple. What a relationship goal.

 

“Last sighting of Ushijima in the Miyagi riverbed,” she reported to the King –who all but smiled at the sight of his wife dirtied by men in this town cheap motel. From a Queen to the village’s bitch, what a downgrade. “He burned half his face now. Wears a mask of an eagle, they said.”

 

“Alright,” Oikawa said as he stood up from the chair. “Then to the riverbed we go?”

 

“I’d say we better focus on the old moon temple instead. We’d lost him even if we chase to the riverbed now. If we connect the information from this man with the one from the blacksmith store –“

 

“Which one, dear? You fuck too many men already.”

 

She ignored him. “Timing-wise, it is corroborated that Ushijima will meet Tsukishima in the moon temple in the next three nights.”

 

“Alright,” the King repeated. “I’ll trust whatever your judgment will be. But that means there’s still time so…” he grabbed her by the wrist and roughly pinned her to the motel’s wooden wall. Licking the length of her neck, he whispered, “The sight of my wife fucking another men, it always fucking turns me on.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

It was a trail of chase and hunt and run and hide. Even with the chains of information, capturing one who was once the grand king of his very own vast Shiratorizawa land was no easy feat. Shimizu’s information had always been correct, but they were not always timely.

 

So it was only seven months after the General’s death that they _finally_ captured the runaway king.

 

Shimizu stood by the Demon King’s side. They towered against the man made to kneel before the now strongest ruler of the whole empire. It was daylight on the green prairies that Ushijima was spotted and captured. Even when spotted and found, it had been a hard battle to finally tackle him down. Oikawa stood tall, but not without broken ribs, blood running off his nose, limp left leg, and burn marks across his back. But all these were nothing to him in comparison to the centuries-old satisfaction of finally defeating Ushijima.

 

And he nearly could not believe it himself.

 

“At last,” he whispered, slow at first, but then it thundered into maniacal laughter. “At last!”

 

Shimizu rolled her eyes beside him. “Be quiet.”

 

The King was forever grateful to his queen, but this time, all his attention was reserved to Ushijima –who, curse him –even when shackled, bruised and forced to kneel, still looked up at him with that calmness on his eyes.

 

It irked Oikawa, and it amused Shimizu.

 

“It’s over for you, Ushijima. I win,” Oikawa re-declared, just to make sure that the fact gnawed deep into his skin.

 

“Ah,” Ushijima’s heavy voice resonated. “I know.”

 

“No begging? No wishing me to spare your life, hmm?” Oikawa asked and he held the wince in his ribs when he bent down to touch the tip of Ushijima’s chin with his sword. “I can behead you right here and right now.”

 

“You can,” Ushijima acknowledged. “But you won’t.”

 

“Why so?”

 

“You are one histrionic King who would want to show off your victory to people. You won’t kill me here. You will have me publicly executed so that everyone will know.”

 

“Hmm,” Oikawa smirked. “For how well you know me, I would have thought we could be best friends.”

 

Ushijima did not say a word and never tore his gaze away from Oikawa.

 

The smile on Oikawa’s face remained, and it was maintained even when his knee collided with Ushijima’s face again. Behind Ushijima, the remaining loyal guards of Shiratorizawa howled and cursed at the Demon King. Small stuffs. Those could be killed right here and right now.

 

Ushijima spat the broken molar out of his mouth, but even with nose bent and eyes bruised in blue, he continued to stare at Oikawa.

 

“You fucking lost,” Oikawa hissed.

 

“I know.”

 

“Then why the hell are you still staring at me like you are all that?! When you’re nothing but this useless piece of meat that I can butcher any second?!”

 

He did not say a word and Oikawa scoffed. He did not like it. It was a clear victory, but why Ushijima was making it hard for him to feel like this was a total victory? The stern and deep eyes that were looking back at him…Oikawa could not wait to have his head chopped off. Then, it could be placed on the reserved altar and he could stare mockingly at the head all day.

 

Sighing deeply so as to calm the thundering agitation inside his mind, Oikawa asked, “I wonder what you are thinking right now. Do you still believe that a miracle would occur, that something, someone would save you? Do you really think and believe that?”

 

Ushijima did not say a word.

 

Oikawa’s eyes twitched. He was tempted, oh how he was tempted to know. He could, of course, ask Shimizu to do the usual, but he refrained himself to order the Queen to do so on two reasons. First, Ushijima was to be the only man he would never allow to touch his wife. And second, he could only allow Ushijima to die on his hand, and not even in his dear wife’s.

 

“Back to the castle,” he mandated as he swiftly turned around and walked to his own horse. “Chain him thrice just to make sure. Drag him by feet and we’re going fast. We’re not stopping,” he said as he climbed his white horse and snickered to himself. “I _really_ cannot wait to unwrap my present there.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

Ushijima was not the only present Oikawa had in his castle, for someone planned a little surprise for him too.

 

His horse had just reached the gates, and there was quite a lengthy distance between his main gates and his castle, but he saw it –the little present someone left for him even from afar.

 

Smokes were high in the sky and it contrasted the red flames that were swallowing the entire south tower.

 

His heart skipped a beat and he widened his eyes, because that fire, and the south tower…there, in that place there was…

 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa screamed on top of his lungs as he kicked his horse and dashed through. His citizens, his guards, the moats, he passed them all. Fast. _Faster._ Fear like he had never felt before stormed through his entire limbs and it threatened to kill him. But he could not die. Not now, not until he saved Iwa-chan –most importantly _now_ because he had failed to save him in the past, and, and…

 

The Demon King believed in no God. But if he was to pray, this was the only time he would.

 

“Oikawa!” Shimizu shouted. She quickly gave the order to Maki, “Secure Ushijima and assign the others to put down the fire. Now!” And then after, she paced her horse to also follow Oikawa’s trails.

 

There was no one living in the south tower, but there were the castle staffs and some citizens around it. None of them tried to put down the fire, and the tower’s walls were crumbling. Shimizu even heard some of them cheered when their King as much as lowered himself into a piece of desperation. The other loyal guards still in their control only began to move and tried to put the fire down when Oikawa snapped at them to do so. Lack of obedience and punishment for the staffs could wait, for now, what was important, the _only_ thing important was…

 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa screamed again as he stopped his horse and jumped off it. Shimizu arrived seconds later and she also hopped off. The debris, smokes and the falling bricks were clouding her sight, but even then, she could still see Oikawa running with all his might to the inside of the tower.

 

“Oikawa, it’s dangerous!” Shimizu warned. She knew the fire would not kill the King, but still, it could very much harm him. She was about to follow him into the tower again, but one sight caught her attention and she halted her steps immediately.

 

There, standing small and proud on the outside of the tower. Dying torch and empty tank of gasoline in each of her small hands. Even the ashes and dusts that covered her blonde hair could not hide her prettiness. And she was always the prettiest when she smiled bright as the sun.

 

And smiling as bright as the sun, Yachi did.

 

Shimizu’s jaw trembled when her mind tried to connect the dots. “H-Hitoka-chan? W-was it you who did this?”

 

Yachi averted her sight away from the burning tower. Surrounded by the big clouds of smokes, she was so small, but at the moment, she was the undefeated. Widening her eyes in mirth when her chocolate eyes met her gray ones, Yachi only smiled brighter.

 

“Shimizu-sama!” she exclaimed almost too happily. “Do you think the King will like my present?” she giggled almost crazily. “ _Bonfire._ To celebrate for the King’s victory.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

It took nearly three hours to fully put the fire down. But by that time, the tower had been reduced to heaps of irreparable ruins.

 

Oikawa failed.

 

All of his heads collections were burned into ashes –just as they should have been decades or centuries ago. Dead souls that were trapped behind those glass boxes were finally left to roam free. Oikawa could not salvage a single of his collection. Each glass box was broken; each head was burnt for too long –not even a single strand of hair remained.

 

While it took three hours to wash away the fire, it took a midnight for Oikawa to finally accept that there was nothing left to save. The King had, with his own bare hands, dug the ruins; his hands were scraped and red and the skins were chapped all over in the process. He only stopped digging once his finger found the silver flameproof ring that was once pierced into Iwa-chan’s left eyebrow. Only then, the King stopped. Only then, the King accepted. Only then, the King finally lifted his knees up from the ruins, and silently, solely, dragged his feet back to his own room in the main castle.

 

Shimizu gave him three quiet days to mourn. On the night of the third day, she pushed herself off her own bed and walked towards his room. There were dead bodies loitering around the castle on the pathway to his bedroom. Anyone so unlucky to cross path with the King –friend or foe, even the most loyal castle staff who had served the lineage from Oikawa’s grandfather – was to die, pierced by the thorn he stabbed to those who met his blazing red eyes.

 

And walking to the King’s chamber in this situation was a deliberate call for a suicide.  But when the Queen knew her life had always been in his hand, she truly had nothing else to lose.

 

One corpse, two corpses, five, twelve, eighteen –there were a total of 31 corpses on the pathway leading to Oikawa’s chamber. Shimizu lifted her heels and walked over one, two, five, twelve, eighteen, 31 dead bodies before she knocked on the door.

 

Dozens of thorny spikes shot through the door –and had she not been the succubus of grace and stealth, she would have died in the first two seconds. But she was not any mortal, nor was she any woman. She was the last lineage of the succubus clan and the very Queen of this kingdom.

 

And foremost, she was the Demon King’s wife.

 

The doors were broken when the spikes crashed through the woods. It displayed the interior of Oikawa’s bedroom blatantly in front of her eyes. The bed was facing the door straight and there, sitting on the huge bed, was the most fearsome creature to ever breathe in this empire.

 

His hands were bloody and his eyes were, unsurprisingly, the deepest shade of red.

 

Oikawa did not even lift his head, but Shimizu knew he had realized her presence. His welcome gift came in the form of another series of thorny spikes. Like earlier, she evaded each of them, though some managed to graze her skin, and now scratches carrying red blood marred her face and skin.

 

He did not shoot her thorny spikes any longer, but she stopped herself three meters away from his bed.

 

“Oika –“

 

This time, he sent her a blast of wind that immediately slammed her hard against the wall. Shimizu grunted when she felt a chunk of wood pierced her shoulder. Groaning, she pulled the piece of wood off her back and threw it away. The blood gushed out of the wound but she stood firm again.

 

“My King –“

 

“What do you want?” he growled.

 

Shimizu paused. She did not even know what she wanted. When she came with the resolve to come to Oikawa, she really did not think through the words that she had to say.

 

And what could be said in such situation anyway? _I’m sorry for your lost_? _It’s better for him to be freed? Let him rest peacefully?_ _Iwa-chan will still live in your memory?_ What? What was there to say to a man who had gained everything but lost the only thing that mattered to him?

 

She had given him three days, but he might need a much longer time alone to mourn. Shimizu knew that this was not the right time, but in this situation, there would never be the right time. Oikawa would need days, weeks, years to accept this. By that frame, with no time being right, it would matter less if she came at this wrong time anyway.

 

“I’ll always be by your side,” she confirmed her promise again and again.

 

“I don’t need you,” he seethed. “All I need is –”

 

“Iwa-chan,” Shimizu continued. “I know. But you can’t have him, Oikawa.”

 

In an inhuman zap of moment, Oikawa dashed from his bed to where Shimizu was standing and he gripped her neck tight. He choked her seriously, and Shimizu closed her eyes. _Death, my King? If this death of mine could satiate your thirst, then be it._

He released his grip around her neck and her high heels were placed firm on the floor again.

 

Shimizu knew that there was nothing she could do to save him at this current condition. So she just spoke of business, of matters that were probably the last thing Oikawa wanted to bother. But she owed him the duty to be his eyes and ears, and she would only report what she had to report.

 

“Ushijima has been secured in the dungeon. Maki has not done anything and he’s waiting for your instruction.”

 

“…”

 

“Lev captured Tsukishima just a short while ago. He’s on the way to bring him here.”

 

“…”

 

“If there is any further instruction –“

 

“Summon her.”

 

Shimizu’s pupil dilated. Her reply came slurred and hesitant. “…What?”

 

Oikawa stared at Shimizu with his crimson eyes. There was no smile or even the usual sadistic glint when he repeated his sole instruction to her. “Summon her. Summon your little chambermaid here.”

 

“…What for?”

 

Oikawa shrugged nearly all too casual. Shimizu could see the almost hidden sparkle of a silver ring hung around his neck with a simple metal chain. “That girl was the one who set the fire, wasn’t she?”

 

“I don’t know how you get the idea,” Shimizu lied through her teeth. “It was an accident, Oikawa. A very unfortunate one, but –“

 

He throttled. “And you, my Queen, you think you can fool me? You think I don’t know? Summon her.”

 

When Shimizu did not say a thing nor move an inch, Oikawa only shook his head and made his point.

 

“Fine. I’ll go get her myself,” he said as he walked past her, and for the first time in three days, finally got out of his room.

 

Shimizu needed two seconds before her awareness returned. In a swift moment that was now neither graceful nor stealthy, she ran after Oikawa as the latter made his way towards Hitoka Yachi’s room.

 

“O-Oikawa, no. There is a mistake. Y-you’re mistaken! She did not do anything!” Shimizu persisted. She held onto Oikawa’s robe –he whisked it away. She clutched his arm –he brushed her off. She fell to her knees and bowed and begged because it had brought her mercy before –he was not deterred this time.

 

Yachi was in her room, standing by the window when Oikawa blasted through the door. There was no surprise in her eyes when the Demon King made his appearance there. It was almost as if she had expected it, as if she had waited for it.

 

“O-Oikawa, please,” Shimizu still tried, and it was for naught. Both Oikawa and Yachi ignored the witch. In the silence of the room where Yachi waited, she only broke into a grin.

 

“Did you enjoy my surprise, Grand King?” she asked almost too sweetly.

 

The King, with eyes blazing red and smile so wide, only told the maid, “Consider yourself extremely special, human girl. That was the most unexpected surprise I have ever received in my entire life.”

 

“I’m glad if it suits your taste!” Yachi beamed.

 

Oikawa nodded.

 

Shimizu trembled so hard; it was hard to lift her knees from the floor. Clutching his robe and squeezing her eyes shut so tightly, the plea was made through gritted teeth. “My King. Please. Don’t kill this girl. Don’t –“

 

“Oh no, my Dear,” Oikawa interrupted as he gently touched Shimizu’s chin and gently pulled her to her feet again. “I won’t kill her. Don’t worry.”

 

Shimizu’s heart nearly burst into shards of gratefulness. “T-thank y –“

 

“Because you will do it for me,” he said with a grin so wide –ear to ear, even his eyes were the shape of two crescents. Cute, pleasant, cheerful…

 

…diabolic.

 

All strength deserted Shimizu’s body. She would have fallen back to her knees again, had it not been for Oikawa holding her arms and pulling her close to his embrace. Shimizu’s shoulders shook so fervently and she only stopped shaking when Oikawa tucked the strands of her black hair and whispered to her ears.

 

“If I can’t have my lover, you think you can have yours?”

 

“My King,” Shimizu rasped. “Please. Not this…”

 

He was cruel. He was merciless. Only the cruel and the merciless could call himself the Grand Demon King.

 

“You’ve vowed to give everything to me, haven’t you, my Queen?” he reminded as his fingers caressed her brows and wiped the tears that were falling free from her frightened eyes. “Ah,” he realized. “I have _always_ wondered what did it take to make horror cross your eyes. Apparently it is this,” he smiled. He leaned down to kiss her trembling lips and murmured against them. “Should have done it sooner. The sight of you terrorized…it really _is_ beautiful.”

 

“Oikawa…please,” Shimizu sobbed.

 

“Nope!” Oikawa cheerfully denied her plea. “Kill her with your own hands.”

 

“Kill me!” Shimizu screamed. “Kill me instead!”

 

He shook his head. “Your soul. Your body. Your purpose. Your loyalty. Your every single goddamn thing, they’re mine, Kiyoko-chan,” he cursed against her. “You will do _everything_ that I order you to. You want to kill yourself? Fine, but afterwards, I’ll make sure to feed this girl to the lions and let not a single remain of her body left,” he then raised his chin. “Just like Iwa-chan.”

 

“Oikawa, I beg you–“

 

“Shimizu-sama,” Yachi called and Shimizu stopped her sobs. Smiling brightly at the Queen, the little sun only tilted her head to the side and earnestly confirmed, “It’s alright. It is my greatest honor to die in your hands.”

 

“Hitoka-chan!” Shimizu screamed at the morbid idea.

 

A single tear fell from Yachi’s eyes as she begged to Shimizu. “ _Please._ It’s lonely. I want to meet Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun too.”

 

Shimizu turned her face away. Why? Why must it be this way? Why must this happen? Why must –

 

 _It’s karma,_ the voice inside her whispered. _You reap what you sow, Shimizu. You think there is ever a happy ending for you? You think you can redeem yourself without experiencing at least this?_

“Shimizu-sama…” Yachi called again. “Please? I have always owed you a lot of things, but if I may be selfish and request you one last thing…it would be this.”

 

Shimizu pursed her lips tight. She did not, could not, say anything in the situation.

 

“Shimizu-sama.”

 

“Kiyoko-chan,” Oikawa also persuaded kindly. “Kiyoko-chan, let’s give everyone what they want, alright?”

 

_What everyone wanted? But what about what she wanted? What about the sun she wanted to hold, what about the mercy she thought she deserved?_

How dare you, Shimizu.

 

(Never yours. Mercy was never yours)

 

Taking a deep breath, Shimizu wiped the tears from her face. She lightly tapped Oikawa’s hand that was rested on her shoulder and he took the cue and let go of her. Shimizu walked closer towards Yachi –who only smiled so bright in return. Blinding, it was so blinding.

 

And Shimizu did what she did best.

 

Giving her lover her most beautiful death.

 

“I promise it won’t hurt,” she whispered brokenly before she closed the distance and kissed Yachi’s lips.

 

Yachi closed her eyes. Oikawa stood in silence as he watched the entire scene.

 

Shimizu poured it all (her heart –did she have one?, her love, her passion, her life).

 

When Yachi died, a part of her died too.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The girl was almost too pretty in her death. When life deserted her body, she looked so peaceful, angelic –she almost looked like she was just sleeping. Or maybe that was the little consolation Shimizu still dared to give herself.

 

Oikawa even lifted Yachi’s body from the floor and tucked her in the bed. Shimizu covered her body with the blanket and folded Yachi’s hands to clasp nicely on top of her chest. She looked down at her fondly and laid a brief kiss on her forehead before she tidied her bangs and slowly straightened her posture up.

 

Almost like a father and a mother when they were gazing at their own baby girl, Oikawa hugged Shimizu from behind gently and buried his face on the crook of her neck.

“Please don’t hate me for this,” he said, this time truly honest and truly apologetic.

 

Her palms were placed on top of the hands that were hugging her waist from behind. Shimizu exhaled a deep breath and asked him the same question she had asked years before when he made her kill the High Priest of Karasuno.

 

“Would it even matter to you if I do?”

 

Back then, he could not answer. But this time, he could.

 

“Yes,” Oikawa hissed earnestly. “Yes, it would matter. I don’t want you to hate me.”

 

She allowed the last drop of tear to fall from her eyes before she leaned against his sturdy chest and arms that were more destructive than protective.

 

“Good. Because I hate you now, Tooru.”

 

He nuzzled her neck and breathed in. “I know,” he whispered, and for once after Iwa-chan’s head been burnt, his eyes returned back to his normal chestnut brown color. “…I know.”

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

They would never have a grand funeral ceremony for one insignificant maid.

 

But Oikawa dug the earth and throughout the burial of Hitoka Yachi, he had never once left his wife’s side.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

 

The King and the Queen made their public appearance again in front of the citizens on the day Ushijima and Tsukishima were to be executed. It was in front of the capital’s atrium. There was a grand stage built with the adjacent makeshift throne placed not too far. It was daylight, but even the sun refused to shine on the day the Demon King fully claimed his complete victory.

 

Rain started to fall when Oikawa descended down his throne and made his way to the execution stage.

 

Fitting.

 

The whole citizens were silenced in the process. They were made to watch; they were made to witness this grand event. No protest was heard. This was it. The last piece of opponents to the Demon King’s history of monarchy. After this, the nights and days would forever be the Demon King’s. After this, all citizens’ fates were to wait in line until the summon letter was sent: just who the unlucky was to be beheaded in front of the King, because, really, after this, nothing was quite challenging, and the King could get bored easy.

 

They started with Tsukishima first. In all honesty, Oikawa knew little about this cheeky blonde-haired brat. But he was the last remain of the Karasuno militia, and that should mean something.

 

“Last word?” Oikawa asked as he drew his own sword.

 

Tsukishima only glanced at the King. A boy had many things to wish. A boy had many dreams to die for. But he had lost too much and if he were to live, he would live in the dark days under a tyrant anyway. Days of torture, days of defeat, days of despair. And against those, the alternative death was probably not too bad.

 

“Whatever,” the bespectacled boy murmured.

 

Oikawa actually gave Tsukishima a chuckle first before he swung his sword and severed the head.

 

The citizens drew hiss as the blonde head rolled down, but they soon quieted themselves. It would not be funny if they were to be called to the execution stage next.

 

The guards quickly cleaned the blood and the body of Tsukishima so as to prepare for the next stage. In the mean time, Oikawa waited in his gazebo throne and even had the pleasure of flirting with Shimizu first (down straight dismissed, the Queen never changed). When Maki appeared before the throne again, it was to announce that the stage was ready for the next execution.

 

“Ah, alright,” he said as he stood up and extended his hand towards Shimizu. “Come, my Queen.”

 

Shimizu accepted the hand and together with Oikawa’s help, she descended down the throne to walk not too far towards the execution stage. It was cleaned and prepared. Unlike Tsukishima who was shackled down to his knees, Ushijima was chained standing. They dressed him in his formal Shiratorizawa’s kingdom attire with a crown on top of his black hair. Death-row prisoner or not, he was still the royalty lineage.

 

The King faced the other King. Oikawa smiled briefly at Ushijima’s ever stern face before the former turned around to face Shimizu.

 

“Kiyoko-chan?” he hinted.

 

Shimizu nodded, and she extended both her arms to offer the King with the sword of the late General. In the claim for the total victory, Kuroo must be present. The King, the Queen, and the General. As the unholiest of the unholy trinity, they would do this claim of victory together.

 

“For Kuroo,” Shimizu said as she basked Kuroo’s sword with her own poison before she handed the hilt to Oikawa.

 

Oikawa smiled as he took the sword from Shimizu’s hand. Whispering fondly to the sword, he muttered with closed eyes, “Buddy, I may not present you Ushijima’s sword. But it is your sword I will use to shed his blood.”

 

When Oikawa opened his eyes again, they were blazing red.

 

Ushijima was taller than him, and Oikawa did not mind Ushijima looking down at him due to the height difference. Soon, it would be Ushijima’s dead eyes that needed to gaze up at him when it fell to the ground.

 

There was almost a wave of sentimentality when Oikawa looked at Ushijima. The centuries-old rivalry, his most difficult and worthy opponent… Oikawa at least allowed one truth to come up his lips.

 

“It’s been an honor to fight you all these time, the King of Shiratorizawa,” he spoke earnestly. “Any last word?”

 

Ushijima stared at Oikawa. Not a trace of smile, not a trace of frown, only his usual default expression and strong gaze. Oikawa nearly shivered.

 

“You should have…” Ushijima began but he refrained himself. With a low chuckle –the closest thing to a smile Ushijima would ever express, he rephrased his words. “No. You shouldn’t have. You couldn’t have.”

 

“What? Come to the light?” Oikawa sneered.

 

Ushijima smirked. The White King might have a weird sense of humor that way. “For someone whose heart is as dark as you, you should have never even stepped into the light. You will ruin it.”

 

“Hm,” Oikawa shrugged. “As expected.”

 

“Farewell, Oikawa.”

 

The brown-haired King gave a curt nod, almost a salute.

 

“Farewell, Ushijima.”

 

And he swung his sword straight against Ushijima’s neck.

 

The head fell and one citizen cried.

 

Then two. Then seven. Then twelve. Then nineteen. Then every single innocent citizen cried. Even the guards could not stop the wave of cries, could not punish those who cried, because there were just _so many_ of them who wept. There went their their last hope –drowned in the drain. This was it. The day the Kingdom truly bled black, the day Grand Demon King Oikawa Tooru became the whole empire’s sole tyrant.

 

And in the midst of his own citizens’ cries, the King only held his Queen’s hand in one hand, the General sword’s raised up high in the other. And he laughed. He hysterically laughed because this was it. The day where he seized everything and had everything in his clutch.

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

The castle held the celebration seven days straight. Every household in the kingdom mourned, but for now, Oikawa did not care for the mourners –he wanted to celebrate, he wanted to be engulfed in his victory and glory. He no longer cared for the other, cared for nothing else, because he had it all.

 

His dream.

 

Shimizu only watched high from her throne as Oikawa laughed and danced and flirted with the court ladies and became the center of attention. Those who were in the castle all celebrated with Oikawa –not caring for the citizens who were whimpering in fear for what the next days would bring them.

 

“Would this fine lady give me the honor for a dance?” Oikawa asked as he extended his hand towards Shimizu.

 

“I don’t dance,” Shimizu pointed out.

 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Oikawa still had his hand extended. “I offer you a chance to dance with the most irresistible and powerful man in this empire. How can you say no to that?”

 

The smallest hint of smirk made it to Shimizu’s face as she exhaled a defeated sigh. With playfully arched eyebrow, she told him, “An offer stops being an offer when it comes from you, my King.” It was a reminiscent of their first meeting. But she stood up from her chair and gracefully accepted the hand. “Just one dance,” she warned.

 

“Perfect,” he grinned, before he pulled her quickly, and she nearly stumbled down the throne. Shimizu even chuckled as Oikawa laughed out loud. But he held her firm, and she allowed his contagious smile to tug the corners of her lips more. They went down the ballroom and the others made way for the King and the Queen.

 

The music was a joyous one. Oikawa twirled Shimizu and, goodness, she was truly the most graceful and beautiful thing to happen in his life.

 

“You agreed to only one dance,” she flatly reminded when he did not release her hands upon the start of the next music. It was slower in tempo and more melodiously calm.

 

“Can’t have enough of you, my dear. Do forgive me,” he grinned.

 

Shimizu smiled, and when the lights of the castle were dimmed down she rested her head on Oikawa’s chest. The movements were slow and she closed her eyes. He drew her even closer and pressed his chin on top of her head, holding her tight and he was not letting her go.

 

It was gentle, the most romantic thing the King had ever done to her, and she could not lie to herself –it brought her with all inexplicable feeling. In Oikawa, Shimizu found hell. But hell was her home –a place to return to. He was her sole purpose now, her sole everything. How far she had come. How far he had become. All the journey, all the tears and pain and damnation and sins… how far, how far and how tiring, yet at the same time…

 

…how fulfilling.

 

She had never felt her heart being filled with so many emotions at the same time. Not even Yachi, she realized. Only the King could as much evoke this complicated sense of completion that burned her more than the sun did.

 

“Is this all?” she asked when he said not a word after and just swayed her in steady and rhythmic movement.

 

“What?” he asked as he kissed the crown of her black hair.

 

“Your dream?” she whispered. “Have you finally realized all your dreams, all your wishes?”

 

He hugged her tighter. “Almost. I have all but my last dream fulfilled.”

 

Shimizu clutched his back and something began to choke her throat. “That one?”

 

“Yes,” Oikawa affirmed, before he pulled himself back so that he could look at the Queen’s eyes. But his hands around her waist remained, just as her hands on his shoulders did. “Only one that remains.”

 

“…”

 

“Could you, now, Kiyoko-chan?”

 

Shimizu glanced at Oikawa. The Queen looked up at her King. Kiyoko searched deep through Tooru’s window of soul –no other eyes had ever spoken such determination, such complexity, twistedness, childishness, bizarre being that Oikawa Tooru was.

 

And more than anything, she searched deep into her own soul. The one that bore too many sins, weighed her down and down to the pit of inferno –that darkest place no one touched, that not even the Sun could shine upon. In the darkness of _her_ heart _,_ she searched for the answer, for the confirmation, for the strongest attachment…

 

And digging deep inside her as she locked her gaze with his warm brown eyes, she finally found it.

 

A smile spread through her lips when the realization hit her. Her heart burst. Because as complex, as twisted, as unbelievable, as morbid as her feeling went, now she had it all confirmed.

 

Oikawa smiled too.

 

And his smile remained even when Shimizu pierced his heart with the dagger.

 

The music came into a halt. The court nobles and ladies shrieked. The guards were rendered completely speechless –for had it been anyone else to hurt the King, they would rage and immediately confine the person.

 

But it was the Queen. The very wife of the Demon King himself. The second one in charge. What were the guards expected to do?

 

Oikawa let out a hiss as Shimizu thrust the dagger deeper into his heart, to the point the hilt was the only thing that did not disappear into his flesh. Heart was a crucial thing –even for the Demon King. And a dagger which had been soaked in the legendary flower’s nectar –the one Tobio-chan once used to hurt him, the one Hinata used to kill Kuroo, the one Oikawa himself saved in a small glass container and gave to Shimizu only…

 

…it would kill him. This time, it really would.

 

His body was heavy when gravity pulled him down, but Shimizu held and embraced him. She slowly fell to her knees as well, her arms never once let go of the King. She had vowed once to bear all his sins, all his bloodied footsteps –it was not hard to bear his death as well.

 

Oikawa coughed blood and Shimizu let the tears fell from her eyes. And when she thought she could never shed another tear after she killed Yachi…apparently, she was mistaken.

 

Apparently to her, there was a death more agonizing than Yachi’s.

 

A snippet of the memory fondly tickled into her mind as she continued to hug and hug and hug Oikawa to the fullest.

 

 

_“…And my dream…if I must die, I want to die like Iwa-chan.”_

_“To be betrayed in your death?”_

_“No,” he softly whispered. “To die in the hand of a person whom I love and who loves me back.”_

 

 

“K-Kiyoko-chan?” Oikawa smiled when he heard her sobs getting louder. “Hey, wifey, don’t cry. This is what I want, okay?”

 

She could not fulfill that one last request. She could not not cry. Not when it was like this. Not when her heart was ripped into million shards when Oikawa gently stroked the tresses of her black hair. Not when she loved a person just as much as she hated him. Not this. Not this inexplicable feeling that was eating her inside out.

 

Not when there was a realization that came too late; not when there was a feeling born in a kingdom as black as this and towards a man as damned as him.

 

“I-I love you,” she choked out. It was cruel that the confession came at a time like this, but it was only in the cruel tragedy that the forsaken King and Queen be allowed to love each other.

 

Oikawa beamed. “I know,” he softly said. “And I-I wouldn’t have given you the flower poison if I didn’t love you back, right?”

 

“T-Tooru…” Shimizu cracked. “W-what am I going to do after this?”

 

He sighed and the pain was spreading so fast, it was hard to even draw a breath now. But for his queen, for Kiyoko-chan, for this love even more twisted than his love to Iwa-chan, he would brace all the pain to look at her for the last time.

 

She slowly descended his body until he was laying down on the cold floor. But her hand, still, never let go of his.

 

“Be free,” he requested. “Find another home. Find a place where your soul can rest peacefully. And this time…” he smiled. “Do it for yourself and not for anybody, n-not even for the K-King’s sake.”

 

She closed her eyes and the big droplets of tears fell even faster. “It’s hard. H-how can you ask me this? This is hard, Tooru…”

 

“I know,” he gritted his teeth. So, _so painful._ He could barely grip Shimizu’s hand back if it was not for her holding him. “But you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever encountered so,” he sighed. “So you’ll be fine.”

 

“I love you,” she repeated –just because she knew this was his final moment and she wanted this to be the last thing he heard and memorized. She wanted this to be the last thing he knew, she _needed_ this to be the last thing he trusted her on. “I love you,” she whispered with a touch of kiss onto his knuckles.

 

Her face… Her beautiful face, how he longed to touch it once more. How he wished things were different. How he hoped he could love her more, love her better. How he dreamed of another life, another destiny, another realm and another destiny. Not one in this black kingdom. Not one marred in blood and sin and guilt.

 

( _Now, now. Remember your place. You two deserve no such thing_ )

 

Oikawa scoffed.

 

Above him, the Queen chanted the same thing over and over again. She held him tight, and her words, her promise was the same. Her words were getting fainter, or maybe his ears could hear less. But she kept trying and he could only say the acknowledgment.

 

“I know,” he replied; his hand was extended slowly to reach for her face. “…I know, my beloved Queen.” One last time. He just needed to touch her one last time –

 

His hand fell before he could touch her face.

 

People reaped what they sowed. Kings included.

 

And that…was how the Grand Demon King died; seven days after his claim of complete victory, in his own grand palace and by the hand of his own Queen.

 

Nobody dared to say a thing, to make a single move after.

 

And it was quiet for a while. The Queen hovered her palm over the King’s eyes to close them forever before she bent down to kiss his knuckles again. She finally let go of his hand and folded them neatly on top of his abdomen. When she stood up and faced the crowd too horrified for the sight, they all took a step back.

 

The Queen, no, now the sole ruler of this Demon Kingdom did not even tremble nor shake when she said her order. She was regal and calm. Collected, sound, rational for someone so morbidly irrational –and for that, only she deserved to rule the Demon Kingdom and made her first order.

 

“Maki,” she called out.

 

The Head Guard now stammered as he walked towards the Queen and bowed to her.

 

“Y-yes, my Queen?”

 

“My order is now absolute, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, my Queen. At your service.”

 

Shimizu nodded. “Good. Because today marks the end of my husband’s reign. A new day shall come to the kingdom. A new era. A new ruler. Hold an election after this. This Kingdom is the people’s. Only ask the citizens what they want to do with this kingdom.”

 

The guests began to whisper anxiously. Maki asked with a frown, “B-but my Queen! Aren’t you going to rule us?”

 

“No,” Shimizu affirmed. “I am only my husband’s shadow. If he is not ruling, so won’t I,” she said as she looked at the rest of the guests and staffs. “Please vacate the castle. You are all now free.”

 

There was hesitation at first. But then the crowd cheered. The guests swarmed out of the castle to spread the news of the falling kingdom. The guards looked at each other, and only when they saw that their head guards, Maki, made no move, that they, too, joined the crowd and the wave of celebration began. Shimizu smiled slightly. Never had she seen the people this joyful.

 

By the time she looked around again, the castle was already empty. Almost. Maki was still there –fists clenched so tightly.

 

“T-this is not how the Demon Kingdom should end,” he said with gritted teeth. “My Queen, please, order me to do something else! There can never be an election! The kingdom is run through royal history! The kingdom can’t end this way!”

 

Holding Oikawa’s face near her chest and caressing his brown locks, Shimizu shook her head. “No. This is not the end for the Kingdom, Maki. This is just the end for the King and the Queen, but never the kingdom. Never the people. Do you understand?”

 

Maki sobbed and brushed his drenched face with his sleeves. “Y-yes, my Queen.”

 

“Good. Now can you leave me and my husband alone? And…” she paused to give it one last thought. The hall was almost vacant now –it had been this way too when she first met the King and became his queen. The day he made the offer. The day he chained her. The day she belonged to him. The days, those days…how she wished to return to those days…

 

_Find a place where your soul can rest peacefully. And this time…do it for yourself._

 

Shimizu nearly snickered to herself. Oh, dear King. If only he had known where her soul could rest peacefully…

 

“Yes, my Queen?” Maki slowly asked when the Queen had yet to make her next order.

 

She made up her mind. “…And I want you to burn this castle with me and the King in it.”

 

Maki paled. The King’s orders had been vicious, but the Queen’s had been crazy. “B-but my Queen! You can’t –“

 

“My order is absolute, isn’t it?” she reconfirmed.

 

“Please order me to do something else!”

 

“Vacate and burn this place,” the Queen mandated as she slowly turned back to the King’s last resting place. “Now,” she icily told him her last order.

 

Maki sobbed and brushed his drenched face with his sleeves. “Y-yes, my Queen,” he whispered as he bowed for one last time and exited the hall.

 

Shimizu closed her eyes. She no longer cared for Maki. She no longer cared for anything. There was only one thing she wanted to do. She returned to Oikawa and descended herself down on the floor. Laying on the carpeted floor, she pulled Oikawa closer to her and watched him. Beautiful. He always told her how beautiful she was. While in fact, she thought that he was the most beautiful of them all.

 

“My King,” she whispered to the man who could no longer say a word. A soft smile spread on her face as she closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him “All your dreams already come true. Now, will I be able to dream as well?”

 

 

* * *

***

* * *

 

_“Do succubus dream?” he asked; his fingers remained intertwined between her hair._

_“We can’t,” Shimizu answered._

_“Why not?”_

_“Dreams come to those who have deep attachment towards something. By default, succubus are not created for that. We don’t really feel or have particular sentiment towards anything.”_

_“Not even to me? When I’m this irresistible?”_

_She gave him a deadpanned stare._

_He chuckled. “It would be nice if you can dream about me someday, Kiyoko-chan.”_

* * *

***

* * *

 

 

By the time the smoke infiltrated the room and the fire crept around, Shimizu was already fallen asleep by Oikawa’s side. The sun was never hers, but hell’s flame welcomed her well. And as the grand castle was burning, the dream took her in too.

 

She did not even dream about Yachi, or Kuroo, or anyone else. At the end of the day, there was only one existence whom could make her feel the strongest sentiment, the strongest attachment.

 

She dreamed of Oikawa Tooru.

 

And in a kingdom this twisted, her first dream was the best she had ever had.

 

* * *

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodness grief finally this shit is done…
> 
>  
> 
> Not to sound exhausted, because I actually really enjoy the writing process. Oh my goodness, I truly miss killing characters in a fanfic *insert evil author’s laugh* There you go, folks! My take on the FHQ AU –twisted as dark as I could. Now that I think about it, nearly all characters die. For those mentioned in the story, I probably only allow Noya, Tanaka, Lev and Maki live. Oh dear lord.
> 
>  
> 
> But anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this story, as demonic as it is. Sadistic oikiyo is my kink and overall, I’m relieved to get this out of my mind. Thank you all for reading until the end! It will be really meaningful to me if you can give your thoughts on this story :)


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